#the moral of the story is: I need someone to keep me company for a while so I feel better

[leos-regression-cove]

Ngl I feel really down today. I try not to vent too much on here, but if you want details it's below the cut (Nothing happened to me personally, but it was just kind of a bummer)

But basically, I need a little bit of distraction and want to get into a more creative mood. So, send some asks, fandom or otherwise. I could use an anon to tell me about their day or to babysit or something. I just need some positivity or connection rn.

Tw for drug use below

I work at a public library and this probably shouldn't be affecting me as much as it is because it wasn't about me.

Some guy came in. He was quiet and well behaved compared to a lot of the patrons we get.

He sat down at a computer and started to work. For a while everything was fine.

Then, as I was shelving behind him, I noticed he was leaning. I thought (from behind) that maybe he was older and had arthritis and was just struggling to reach for something he had dropped.

But he was young, so well... maybe he was just nodding off. Maybe he's a tired college student... I finished up with my cart and then told my supervisor about it. He checked and was like "...Yeah that guys on heroin"

So I was like "can we call someone? Is he okay?"

And I got the response of "Uh... well, as long as you're going to be over there can you keep an eye on him? Just make sure he doesn't totally lose consciousness?"

And tbh I think we should've called an opioid hotline for this guy when he was leaning over.

His nails were white. He was making really horrible snoring and grunting noises. And sometimes he'd get up and try to log into the computer, but then he'd slump over again.

So my job was to do my usual straightening work while watching this guy. Make sure he didn't die. I was told if he's totally limp (horizontal or head on desk for more than 30 seconds) to come up and talk to the higher-ups.

And eventually, after about 20 minutes, he put his head fully down on the desk and lost consciousness.

So I ran up to the front, and told my supervisor. But instead of calling someone, he walked up to the desk, knocked on it, until the guy woke up, and then asked him to leave.

The guy got up and walked out, but I can't help but feel like we should've just called someone. Even though it wasn't deadly, he showed a lot of signs of overdosing (then again, that's according to the internet so you never know. I've never dealt with this. I haven't been trained for this)

I think we just told this guy to go OD somewhere else instead of getting him some narcan or something and it left a really bad feeling in my stomach.

Also later on, I was talking to one of my coworkers and then heard him complaining to another coworker about how much "that guy" talks and that doesn't mean anything because it definitely could've been about someone else, it's just me being insecure but it didn't help.

I'm also just kind of tired. Last night was late.

[kneelingshadowsalome]

Christian Woman

(König x Nun!Reader)

Word count: 6.4 k Tags/warnings: Pining intensifies, religious despair intensifies, minor injuries, treatment of wounds, crying, enthusiastic kissing, König gets a few boners. 18+ for eventual smut in this story.

A/N: Don't tell me you wouldn't get horny scared too if you saw this tall guy suddenly emerging from the shadows in his full war gear :) There's a cute date night and a lot of angst in this chapter too, I tried to summon an actual plot here... As always, I need to explain why they’re bonking! But smut is coming, next and last chapter will be full of fluff and steamy first times (Reader is virgin!)

Part 2

You have a feeling that this is the last day you’ll see him.

The stranger from the Austrian Alps, the kindest mercenary you’ve ever met – the only mercenary you’ve ever met – the giant soldier who now carries a piece of your heart with him. You wonder if he even knows he owns it.

The morning prayers and mass are a chore and bring you no comfort, and the usual dawn bliss is gone. You find no delight in singing with your sisters, and withdrawing to your cell for solitary prayer feels like stepping back inside your own personal purgatory. 

You’ve been in heaven and in hell for days now. Maybe since the moment you met him...

But at the same time, you know it must’ve been the Lord who brought you together. There must be a reason for God to make you two meet, you refuse to think it’s only because He wishes to tempt you. There must be a bigger plan; the connection, as sinful and carnal as it is, has to serve some higher purpose.

And you wonder if you’re going mad, because your most sinful thought is that you actually see God in him. It’s just your lower instincts speaking, a demon of some sort that tries to misguide you because no man is like Lord Jesus. 

And yet, don’t they always preach that you meet Him in every person you meet? And that through you, other people meet God too…? 

This reasoning feels much better. It solidifies the mercy you’ve longed for during the brief weeks you’ve known this man who brashly calls himself König. You want to believe that he carries a spark of the Divine in him, and that you hold a grain of the Virgin Mary’s compassion and love in you. 

You decide to hold on to this thought: that you were meant to meet so that you could come to know God through each other. For in König, you see a suffering God, a crucified Christ who rises against evil by offering himself to the cruelty of men. Somehow, the image of him as a mortal man starts to twist into a divine, dark trooper, someone who battles the forces of the evil in this world.

And this reasoning leads you to think that it is only natural that you, a Sister of the Faith, have helped him find some rest and relief in the middle of his work. It’s pretty clear that König has found some solace in your company, and even if things have ventured into a forbidden area of low, simple lust, it’s not dark enough to taint the beauty and grace you've felt together. As long as you hold on to this purity, nothing can go wrong.

While praying for both of you that morning, you find yourself replaying the smiles and touches König has given you these past weeks. You know you will drown yourself in memories after he's gone because they are all you’ll ever have of him.

And they're more than enough.

Or at least they should be…

You feel a tiny dagger of guilt push into your heart, the place reserved for Christ, when you’re assigned to do some spiritual reading instead of helping out in the kitchen or organizing the small library. The appointed texts are about falling into temptation and sin, reminding you about the consequences of such actions. You read the passings with a heavy heart and then slip out to meet König, possibly for the last time.

You wear your everyday clothes to the café, and König says nothing about your sudden moral choice, only gives you another longing, enamored once-over. You keep him at arm’s length, both physically and emotionally, and the effects of this unexpected cold shower are immediate. The man doesn’t even try to disguise the sad, puppy-eyed stares he shoots your way. 

You hate it that the bright, playful air of your meetings is gone, and your heart is tearing itself apart in your chest because the only thing you wanted was to spread joy into his world. Even the Lord seems disappointed in you being so cold-hearted, and you can’t bear to see His sadness and suffering in König’s eyes.

You get offered not one, but two coffees today, and a large piece of dark chocolate cake that tastes of pure sin. He talks about how he would love to write to you, but you tell him you can’t be in correspondence with a man who isn’t your brother or father. König isn’t even married, so it would only raise questions – you would find yourself reading spiritual texts about lust and sin until it drives you crazy.

“I’m leaving early tomorrow,” he finally reveals with a voice thick with sorrow. “Can I see you before I go...? One last time?”

“I’d love to, but… I’m sort of being watched,” you say, slowly coming out of your shell to make it clear that you’d want to spend the rest of your life with him, but you simply just can’t.

Your weak, apologetic look is like a dose of confidence shot through his veins because the face opposite of you brightens immediately. König’s whole posture gets a hopeful uplift.

“Just for a little walk...? To see what the city looks like in the evening?”

“I don’t know if I can make it… I have to work until six... And attend the evening prayer at seven. And then silence starts at eight…” 

You’re wringing your hands under the table while you explain, hoping König will come up with a solution to this dilemma.

“We can go for a walk after silence, then,” he shrugs.

“I–I can’t just escape from the window.”

“...Why not?”

You look at König; he looks straight back.

The man’s serious about you sneaking out your window at night; he’s actually serious, even if there’s a dark, playful smile rising on his lips. 

“I can help,” he grins.

Your heart cracks open, it shoots full of light only more and more with that smile. König doesn’t need to ram a door down and shoot his way through your chest; all he has to do is sneak inside your heart and take the place that belongs to God. You don’t even feel the difference as he makes himself at home. 

Well, actually, you do... It’s like your Christ’s love and mercy have finally come to flesh and blood before you. They're materialized in the man sitting opposite of you, bouncing his knee excitedly and grinning like the most innocent little devil on Earth.

You find yourself whispering “Ok”, and the whole world shifts. 

You take a step towards something forbidden but great, your whole heart starts to sing along with life. You haven’t even done the actual thing yet but you’re already filled with bubbling laughter and excitement. If only your friend could see you now, about to do things she probably did when she was fifteen...

But everything feels so right that it can’t be a sin – if it is, it just so happens to be the most natural, most divine thing to do too.

If this is the last day you’ll ever see him, you can surely steal a tiny moment for yourself and forget about rights and wrongs for a moment. Just forget about the rules, and live in the actual world for a few hours, breathe the worldly air, see what normal people do and pretend you’re one of them, for just one night. 

…

You feel like Cinderella when picking clothes for the evening.

You rummage through the only closet in your room – during the time that should be spent in silent prayer before bed – and notice you still have your old jeans.

They’re light blue and still fit; actually, they fit more than well... You know that König’s eyes will be glued to your butt when you’re not looking.

You have completely forgotten how nice you look in jeans, and it’s the Devil talking, making you admire yourself in tight denim like this. You never cared about how you look before; you certainly never gave much thought to how men see you or if they’re checking out your butt or breasts. Now you’re grooming yourself like never before, trying to decide what to do with your hair as if your life depended on it.

You choose a simple, black t-shirt to pair with the jeans and not make it too obvious that you’re trying to flaunt yourself. It hugs your form but is otherwise plain, and for some people, your choice of clothing is probably their regular work outfit. To you, it feels like you’re about to go out to seduce everyone.

Everything’s so tight and earthly; everything’s so�� there. Visible... Touchable.

Lord, have mercy on me. I know I’m weak. But please let me have this, just this once…

And König has seen you without makeup all this time, so what on earth has possessed you to lament the fact that you don’t own a single case of lipstick? You’d kill for a few sweeps of mascara, too, just to bat your lashes at a silly man.

It’s not a date, you remind yourself.

It’s not a date... It’s not a date. You’re just going to have a short walk with him.

And you fear that accepting König’s “help” was a mistake. If you get caught with a man on the convent perimeter, you’ll get your ass thoroughly whooped…

Can a man of his size even keep quiet?

He probably suggested it so that you wouldn’t chicken out of this. If König is at your window by 8 and there’s no sign of you, he’ll probably just come in, throw you on his shoulder and jump out. He knows where your window is located now, and surely has some questionable skills due to his profession, skills you know nothing about, but you’re still about to have a panic attack from pure excitement when the clock strikes 8. 

You push the window ajar and settle on the sill to keep watch, gasping when you hear his familiar accent down below as soon as the window is open.

“Kätzchen...”

“König…?”

You peek down and meet his stupid, grinning face – God, he’s so happy to see you kept your promise. His eyes are shining, his fingers interlock to help you have something to place your foot on. 

“Here, kitty, kitty…”

You could easily jump out the window without hurting yourself, but of course he wants to help you since you were so kind to tell him where he could come and "pick you up".

But to see that playful smile and hear him trying to coax you out like you’re some skittish little kitten…

Could a grown man get any more silly?

You wiggle yourself out the window, trying to ignore the fact that he’s probably staring at your butt, still grinning like crazy while you do it. 

SupportING your entire weight like it’s no trouble at all, he helps you down. You’ve never been this close to him since you bumped into him: you have to take support from his shoulders as you search for a footing, and he scoops you in his arms the minute both your feet are safely on the ground.

“I knew you’d come,” he purrs with joy, and you place your hands on his chest – not to keep him at bay, but to touch him in a way that is as appropriate as possible when a man is hugging you like this.

“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” you whisper, still unsure if this is the best or the worst decision of your entire life.

“Kitty… Live a little, hmm?”

You have to crane your neck to look up at him – you’re not sure if you’re in the embrace of Jesus or Lucifer because the warmth of those eyes compare to the love of God, but they also make you weak and helpless. Whenever you’re with your sisters, the feeling is pure, pristine love, not a surge of complex emotions and thrill like it is with König.

“You’re a bad influence,” you breathe – König only laughs, and the grip around you tightens. 

“My lady. You’re the one who climbed out the window.”

“Because someone would’ve probably thrown small rocks on it if I hadn’t…!”

“Natürlich. And if that didn’t work… A serenade or two. Do you like love songs?” 

You look down at his chest, smiling, heart fluttering at the thought of a silly Austrian man serenading under your window. You have no trouble imagining him singing something syrupy in German, waking everyone up with his racket.

“You’re crazy, did you know that...?” 

“Sure. They tell me that all the time at work. Aber du… Du bist süss.” 

“...What’s that?” 

His smile only widens as he takes in your lips, your neck, the tight shirt that finally gives him something more to look at.

“You’re cute.”

…

The whole evening is heavenly. 

It’s everything you’ve ever wanted from a date and more.

He doesn’t take you for a short walk, oh no. He takes you out to eat, at some lively restaurant where they serve delicious, artisan, wood-fired pizzas. You have créme brûlée for dessert, and König gives you his strawberries when he notices you eat them first, but only on one condition: you have to let him feed them to you one by one. 

He buys you a rose: a big, red, plump one. No man has ever bought you flowers before, and even if you love lush, abundant bouquets, the fact that he chose you a single red rose after you’ve spoken about the beauty of simplicity, doesn't escape you.

König hasn’t only listened to you these past few weeks: he gets you. And how symbolic is it that he chose a rose that’s also tied to all the mysteries of God?

You walk the streets with a flower in one hand and his palm in the other. It's a holy trinity of him and you and the Great Mystery, it’s passion and it’s thorns, it’s blood and beauty and pain, and you feel like he just gets you; he knows you through and through. 

You pass by an outdoor bar with live music, and the place is so crowded that people are dancing on the streets. No cars honk as they slowly pass by the scene, the music and the laughing, dancing pairs make even the grumpiest passersby smile.

It shouldn’t be a surprise that König pulls you to him before you get to escape the scene. You’re drawn flush against his chest, hips colliding with his, hands finding each other in a slow sway that has never even seen the steps of Latin dances.

“Nuns are allowed to dance, no?” 

He smiles dreamily, enveloped in the same sweet haze as you.

“Not with a man,” you correct, but don’t even bother to push him away. Instead, you let König guide his hand down your waist and draw you closer. If this isn't a date, you don't know what is...

“I can take the blame,” he says. “You can tell everybody it was me.”

“It doesn’t work that way,” you laugh. 

“Why not?” 

His eyes are glued to yours, making you warm all over, so much so that you feel like you’re burning from the neck up. You guide your stare down to his chest, then over to the quick heartbeat on his neck.

He's nervous, too... Your cruel soldier is nervous, and kind, and shy because he's pressed against you.

You rest your head there on his chest, watching the golden sunset far away, painting the rooftops with a genial glow. Your heart is made of molten gold, too, as you allow yourself find a home in his embrace.

“I can take your sins,” he promises above you. “Jesus did that too, right?”

“You’re not Jesus,” you smile against his shirt – black, always black...

“Are you sure? I would go to hell for you.”

Your dance comes to a halt as you swallow and lift your gaze. The smiles are gone now, both yours and his. He’s so close now he could touch your lips with his if he wanted to.

And he does want to.

You don’t shy away as he leans down to kiss you. It’s chaste at first, a slow exploration, but then he opens your mouth with his, demanding, hot, intoxicating. You melt in his arms, and he somehow supports you through it all, turning the dance into an embrace and the decent little kiss into a full French one.

It’s hot and wet and slow, so, so passionate that your knees are about to give in. You devour him back, feel how he grows hard against your stomach – the swelling erection makes you dizzy before you come to your senses, but only barely.

You break away an inch, panting into his mouth while he’s panting into yours. What a blessing that you don’t own any lipstick; both of your lips are red without it…

“This is–”

“Inappropriate?”

His voice is husky, and sends a flood of wetness down between your legs. Your heart is racing, but you can’t even note how terribly alive you are before he attacks your lips again.

The kiss is even more desperate than the first one, and the slow urgency is gone. His mouth leaves you without air, and then – he wraps his arms around you and picks you up from the ground like you weigh nothing. Your hands get squished somewhere between you, naturally coming to cup his face as you kiss him back. 

It’s eager, pure lust, so powerful and needy that it scorches through your chest and ties your heartstrings into tight little knots, makes your brows knit together, too.

He grunts into your mouth, sensing you’re more than up for this after all. You let him see the full depth of your hunger and your lust, just waiting to be released and taken – made love to until you’re both sore and messy and limp.

God… This is better than God…

You hear whistles and whoos in the distance, some men yelling, “Let’s go!” and “Get a room” while they pass by. Realizing you’ve fallen into a dream trap of strong arms and needy lips about to depart tomorrow, you know it's something you could have had years ago, perhaps, but not anymore. You'll lose everything if you break your vows tonight: basically, you’ve already broken them, but no permanent damage has been done.

You can still turn back if you turn back now…

You push yourself away, push him away, heart clenching when you see his adoring, love-drunk, half-lidded stare.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, fighting back tears as you come down from your high. “I just–I can’t…”

He breathes labouriously, still clutching you against him, holding you in the air like you’re the thing he has searched for his entire life and now, finally discovered… Only to be told that he now has to put it back where he found it. 

You’re crying by the time he sets you down, and you have no heart or will to pull away. Instead, you bury your face in his chest and cry your fill in his shirt. It’s soon damp from your tears as König hugs and supports you through his own stoic heartbreak.

“I’m sorry... I’m sorry…”

You repeat it until you can’t repeat it anymore, bawling in his chest while the world around you continues to spin despite your heaven and hell, despite your vows, despite your stupid devotion. The world revolves like it always has, as you choose a crucified man over the one who’s flesh and blood and holds you through your pain.

“Kätzchen, don’t cry,” he pets your hair while you sniffle and tremble in his embrace. You know this is not the last time you will cry your heart out over him, but knowing it doesn't help you when he offers you his last, bittersweet comfort.

“It was a good dream while it lasted...”

…

The rose withers in your cell.

You turn it upside down and tie it to the curtain rod to prevent it from dropping its petals. It dries beautifully and keeps its bloodred colour, now reminding you of both Jesus and him. 

There hasn’t been a word from König in months, and of course there hasn’t. You denied his wish to write you, and the dried rose is the only thing left of your time with him. 

In the first weeks, it’s hard to keep up a charade. You show up to prayer, work and mass with red eyes, revealing to everyone that you’re going through a loss of some sort. Somewhere during the first week, the abbess summons you to meet her and you brace yourself for a scolding.

God knows you don’t need the rebuke, and when you close the door and turn to face the symbolic mother of the convent, you end up breaking into tears right in front of her.

“Whatever you were up to, my child, I am glad that it is over now,” she says with all the gentleness of the world. 

“Me too,” your voice breaks, and when the abbess extends her hands, you go to her, fall to your knees, and have another heartwrenching cry with your face in her lap.

You’ve denied yourself love and mercy for days, expecting to be expelled or shamed or ridiculed, but mercy is what you’re offered now, even after you’ve sinned.

The abbess caresses your hair just as softly as König did just days ago, and the fact that her kind gesture reminds you of some silly, infatuated soldier, only makes the breakdown worse. You bawl like a little child who’s deprived of candy, and you don’t even have the strength to berate yourself for it.

“I hope you haven’t done anything irredeemable...?” 

“No... Nothing happened,” you sob and look out of the rose window, desperate for sun while your head rests on a gentle but distant lap. 

Nothing happened except the most sinful, beautiful, lustful kiss of your life... Nothing happened except that you saw this man every time you could, held hands with him, swam in his smiles and affection, and went to bed with thoughts inappropriate for any human being. 

“The world tests us in many ways... But Lord never tests us. He only loves us.”

Something in that sentence finally quenches the neverending flow of tears. Your muscles start to relax, and you remember that this is the eternal truth: to surrender, over and over again, to a power far greater than you. 

The abbess never asks for details about what you have done. She never tells you you have sinned; you don’t need to be told that. The punishment has been dealt already: whoever ties herself to this world and its temptations will suffer exactly like this when the passion and excitement ends. The key to escaping its grip is to simply let go first, once and for all, surrender to the love of God, and trust that everything fill fall into place eventually.

“You must offer your mind and body to work now,” the motherly voice speaks above you. “Work, time and prayer will ease your pain.”

…

Work, time and prayer do ease the pain. 

They ease all pains, but it takes almost six months to stop thinking about him every hour of every day.

You’re proud of yourself when you find out one day that you haven’t thought about him at all. He just now crossed your mind when you remember how he used to smell: of salty seabreeze mixed with intoxicating musk, the scent of excitement and safety all in one. 

You could almost swear you catch a whiff of that particular scent in the yard when you go and water the flowers one evening, but it can’t be: he’s gone, and there’s nothing you can do about it, nothing you even want to do about it because you already made your choice. This path leads you to greater peace of mind in the long run, and you know you made the right decision even if it hurt you and König.

Sunsets still remind you of him, the colour of rose and gold mixed with endings, but the memories are now laced with bittersweet love rather than blunt despair and pain. The times you spent with him are a collection of brief, blissful moments, and you treasure every single one of them in your heart. You still pray for him, not every day, but nearly every day. You touch the rose when the hurt reaches its peak, but the last time you did that was almost a week ago.

And you thought you had forgotten his scent, but apparently, you have not. In fact, it seems to drift to your nose again, which is odd because you’re outside, after all…

“Kätzchen.” 

A whisper is hissed from the shadows just as you’re about to straighten and investigate, because either you’re going crazy or then there’s someone here who smells exactly like him.

You startle and almost drop the watering can, staring straight into the shadows under your window. The tallest man you’ve ever seen steps out from the dark in full combat gear, and while you can’t see his face because it’s covered with a draping black hood, you recognize it’s him simply from the way he moves. 

“Don’t be afraid. It’s me,” he rasps and tries to straighten from the slightly hunched position he’s in, but immediately falls back, then slants to lean on the wall. His gear is dirty, and he holds the side of his stomach with one hand, the lively blue eyes either drunk or very very tired.

“Dear God… What happened to you?”

You abandon the watering can and rush to him; it’s useless to ask if he’s injured when, clearly, he’s trying to prevent himself from slumping to the ground. 

He’s enormous and intimidating even when wounded, a soldier loaded with ammo and weapons and protective paddings and guards, wearing a hood and a helmet and a radio of some sort, his tactical gloves bloody and eyes droopy. The weapon by his side is almost half as tall as you, and God – is that a grenade strapped to his vest?

“I got compromised,” König looks down at the wound but doesn’t remove his hand. He looks so different, like another man entirely when he’s not dressed in his customary olive green pants and a casual black t-shirt. He seems even buffier now, even taller, so terrifying that you wonder if you ever even knew this man.

You must look like a frightened deer because König mistakes your horrified look as sweet, simple concern.

“Don’t worry... They have it much worse, I assure you,” he says with his usual grin – you can hear it from the way he says it that he’s smiling. But it’s so weary now, so exhausted and frail compared to his confident, playful laughs and that husky voice with which he spoke to you after your kiss.

“I came to ask for help,” he continues under his breath, wobbling even when leaning against a wall. “You’re the only one I can… trust.”

“Of course, anything. I will do anything I can.”

His eyes smile down at you from behind the executioner’s veil. It’s that same devoted stare you’ve been trying to dispel for months now. You give yourself a quick mental shake, then tell him to wait here while you go in and call for an ambulance. 

König bounces off the wall and seizes your hand, telling you he can’t go to a hospital and that, if anything, he must avoid any kind of public places. You don’t ask any further questions, even if you know you’re in a pickle now, and not only because those glacial eyes are making your knees weak again. There’s nothing much you can do: he’s wounded and still in danger, saying he can’t trust anyone else. Of course you have to help him in any way you can. If he says it’s not safe, then you must help him get somewhere where it is safe. 

And besides, aren’t you a nun? You’re supposed to help those in need. 

So when he asks you if there are any motels or a bed & breakfast nearby, you say you know just the place. 

It makes your heart bleed that König takes support from you while you slowly make your way down the street. A man of his size, a body trained to withstand whatever his job throws at him, seeking support from a frail little nun… It’s a joke, indeed, and a horrid one. 

When you get to the small place run by a humble old man, you don’t know who to feel more sorry for: the elder behind the counter or König, desperately trying to stay on his feet.

“I mean no trouble,” he says while pushing an unnerving amount of money across the table. “I just need a place to rest.”

The receptionist’s eyes dart to you, then back to König, who still has what you suppose is a loaded rifle dangling by his waist. The safety is on, probably, but there are also knives and grenades strapped to his person, and with that hood, he mainly looks like a terrorist of some sort.

“She’s here to help. See...? Bride of Christ. Even less trouble than I am.” 

You try to smile reassuringly as the man risks a better look at you now instead of being fixated on König or his weapons.

You must make an odd pair, a soldier and a nun... The old man probably has a ton of questions in his head right now.

“No shooting,” he says to you, but his words are directed at König.

“No shooting,” he promises. “No mess if no one knows we’re here. Ok...? You’ve never even seen us.”

The receptionist nods. Then he extends a trembling hand and takes the money, and hands out a key without taking any check-in information.

You go to König and help him up the small stairs and into his room paid with bloody money and a menacing appearance. The fitted carpet is old, and floral patterned, the room small and adorable and meant for visitors far more petite than König. The bedspread is old-fashioned and floral too and has never even seen blood, of that you are sure when König lays himself down with a grunt. 

You spend the next minutes – or hours, you can’t tell – in a tunnel-visioned fog as you do exactly as he says.

You help him out of his gear and weapons and lay them aside quickly but gently, you cut his shirt with an ugly-looking knife, then get a watered towel for him to press against the wound. You rush back to his tactical vest and search for a first aid kit and some medicine, and start to treat his wounds per his advice.

The sun sets in the window, and you patch up your injured soldier with care, trusting his word when he says it’s only a flesh wound and that it looks far worse than it is.

“I should get shot more often,” he purrs when you’re cleaning the rest of the blood off his skin.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” you scold, trying to focus on your task and not the vast plates that make his chest. Or the thick abs, right there under your fingertips… Or the fact that he has incredibly narrow hips, and a luscious breath of dark hair leading from his navel down and underneath the waistband of his pants. 

You suppose this is what your friend calls a happy trail...

And it does make you very happy.

You don’t dare to look beyond that because the pants he usually wears aren’t as tight as these, and you fear he’ll catch you checking out his junk in an attempt to see if your friend was correct about his size. 

To your blessing – or your curse – you don’t even have to look straight at it to see he’s having an erection. You can actually see from the corner of your eye how König grows hard while you’re treating him – it’s right there, a robust tent that rises beside you while you concentrate on wiping off the blood. 

“Pay no mind to that,” he says thickly and completely without shame. “It just happens… Can’t control it.”

He breathes a bit too heavy for someone who’s lying down, and you fear it’s because of the blood loss. But then you start to suspect it’s probably because all the remaining blood has gone between his legs… He doesn’t even try to tone down the heated, obsessive stares he shoots your way, and you suppose he’s either missed you very much, or then there’s a fever rising after all. You’re not sure if you’re glad or disappointed that the bullet didn’t scrape his leg instead.

“I missed you,” he says like he just read your thoughts. He whispers the sentence slowly and with purpose, saying it like a long-withheld secret.

“I missed you too,” you whisper back. 

Gosh… Here you are, a silly little nun who’s tried to get over a crush for six months, crying after him at night and caressing his rose during the day. You’ve been petting a withering flower some mercenary gave you in hopes of getting into your pants, you’ve fawned over memories of a few smiles and a kiss, all the while the said mercenary has killed people for money and now got shot. He came here to work again, but never sent a message, he only came to see you when he was injured… 

...And you’re glad he did. If a bullet was needed to bring him back to you, then you’re grateful for it, no matter how horrible it is.

“Did you ever… find someone?” You ask while keeping your gaze fixed on his navel instead of the raging bulge in his pants.

“Someone, who?”

“Someone to hold hands with.”

He gives a strained laugh. “Ah. No. No time for that.”

You swallow, and slowly guide your eyes to his.

“Are you still happy with your crucified man?”

Ouch.

“I… I don’t know.”

His brows knit together; you can see it even in the dim light of the table lamp, you can see it even if there’s some godforsaken black war paint all over his face under that hood.

There’s a distant hurt in his eyes before he blinks softly, slowly.

“I wrote to you, Braut Christi... Many times. Never sent the letters… They’re still in my room, at the base.”

Your heart skips a beat. 

He hasn’t had “time” for women, yet has written you letters all these months. He’s written letters while you’ve caressed a rose…. 

You wonder if hearts can find each other, even through a distance, and if you’ve felt the urge to go to the flower he gave you at the same time König has gotten the desire to write another letter to you. It’s bittersweet, like this whole thing between you two, the mystery that both brings you together and rips you apart. 

“I wish I hadn’t… I wish I...” you start, but can’t bring yourself to finish.

“Liebling. I should’ve sent them anyway.”

You go get rid of the bloodied paper towels before you start to cry in front of him.

God… You’re not only in a pickle, you’re neck-deep in trouble, and you only notice you forgot to wash your hands when you return to him.

He reaches for your hand and gives it a gentle squeeze. Peace settles in, even if there’s blood on your hands and the man you adore is lying next to you, patched up with the help of a first aid kit when he should be lying in a hospital, receiving treatment and care.

There’s a knife and a pistol tucked under the bedspread, next to his hand, and the fact that he’s still prepared to fight anyone who tries to come through that door underlines the fact that you two come from very different worlds. König is more than just a rose buying, coffee offering gentleman, he's more than just a silly guy who threatens to sing serenades under your window if you don’t come out to play with him.

You’re not sure if you’re more enamoured or scared.

“You’re an angel,” he rasps from the bed as you try to swallow the tears that refuse to go down.

“No I’m not.” 

“Yes, you are.”

A teardrop falls on the innocent floral bedspread as you wish you were in this room as a married couple instead of an injured, horny soldier and a childish nun in love. Spending your honeymoon or something, getting some rest after an eventful day in town, choosing this absurd old Bed & Breakfast as your place to stay for the night.

You wish you were doing anything else than treating his wounds, lethal or not.

“Are you crying?”

His voice is gentler than you even remembered. Six months of despair have turned him into a dark, alluring trickster when he’s really just a man, a big, amazing, tender man who’s multifaceted, multitalented, and always kind.

He's about to fall asleep, and it’s no wonder. The events of the evening have left you drained, too. You kneel beside his bed, too tired to even sit on a chair, wondering if he’ll die from his wounds tonight or get hunted down by the people who still want him dead. 

“I wish you would stop killing people... I wish you would stop getting killed.” 

You must look silly, kneeling beside a giant soldier’s bed, crying and holding his hand between yours as if praying. But his eyes smile at you, and while you’d want nothing more than to see his face again, you realise you kind of like König this way. Masked and menacing and mean to his enemies, but stripped down to his soul when he’s with you.

“I wish you would stop praying... And start living,” he mutters gently.

“Praying helps sometimes,” you whisper.

In truth, you wish you’d start living, too. You always thought you were brave when you said ‘no’ to the world. Perhaps you were only running away from it…

The hand is warm but not feverish. His breaths start to even, and his lids get heavier; his thumb gives you a small caress before he drifts off to sleep.

“Perhaps that’s why I’m still here, Kätzchen.”

[heyimdove]

More on why Persuasion is the real Jane Austen parallel to Aziracrow, and why Pride and Prejudice is not, because I can’t stop dwelling.

There’s a lot here so I’ll try to structure this in a way that makes sense. Wish me luck.

I’ve seen so many people equate Aziraphale to Lizzie and Crowley to Darcy, but these comparisons don’t make sense. Character-wise, they are far more like Anne Elliot and Frederick Wentworth, respectively.

We’ll start with Elizabeth Bennet, who I love with all my heart and is one of those characters I feel like I know (I’m delusional, it’s fine). Elizabeth is wonderfully intelligent, but she isn’t “accomplished” and isn’t a perfect specimen of Regency womanhood. Instead she’s sharp and headstrong. She wants to live how she wants and with someone she loves for a partner. She rejects a match that is, on paper, perfect and would solve all her family’s problems, because she won’t settle for unhappiness. You know who that doesn’t sound like?

Aziraphale, were he a Regency Era woman, would be considered very accomplished for the time; well-read, polite, even a music tutor. But he’s more unlike Elizabeth because he desires to “do what’s best for the family”. In other words, if Elizabeth Bennet was more like Aziraphale, she’d be married to Mr. Collins. She would’ve considered it her duty to marry him because it would protect her loved ones (see Aziraphale accepting the Metatron). For Aziraphale, his duty to protect trumps his personal desire.

So does that make Crowley our Lizzie? No, that doesn’t fit either, and not only because Aziraphale makes a terrible Darcy. Sure, Aziraphale’s status as an angel might be considered comparable to Darcy’s elevated status as a rich person, but Crowley has never hated Aziraphale, never even considered it, and wouldn’t hate him even after the rejection. Lizzie’s hatred is what spurs Darcy to grow. Darcy needed to be completely despised by her to decide to put in the work to be worthy of her.

Okay, so then is Crowley Darcy? Perhaps we could shoehorn that in somewhere because Darcy doesn’t seem good but actually is, or is considered grouchy, but it’s such a loose connection, it barely works-

-Especially when you consider how much better the two fit as the protagonists of Persuasion.

(And yes, shut up, I liked the Dakota Johnson one and I will be using the gifs.)

Where Pride and Prejudice is about two different people gradually seeing the value in the other, Persuasion is the story of two different people seeing the value in the other right from the start, but who then repeatedly make mistakes that keep them separate and in agony.

Aziraphale is *so* much like Anne. First, Anne is the only reasonable (read: likable) member of her high-born family, who believe people in other societal castes to not only be inferior, but disgusting.

Anne sees this is not true, and falls madly in love with the low-born Wentworth- only to be persuaded by outside input not to marry him. Station and familial duty play a part in this decision, and she regrets it for years. She is completely unable to move on.

Like Aziraphale, Anne is certainly more accomplished, for one thing, and she plays by the rules of women of her time and status. BUT her sense of mortality breaks often from that of her family. When she tries to impart her good morals upon them, they are dismissive and insulting, reacting as if Anne is the one who “doesn’t get it”.

She spends eight years with a family she barely belongs to, wondering why she ever thought the company of people like this was worth the loss of Wentworth.

For all of Anne’s kindness, she is a pushover. She’s rarely confident in herself. When she needs to speak up, or just have a direct conversation with Wentworth, she doesn’t. She can’t. She repeatedly makes Wentworth come to her.

Wentworth, meanwhile, is a far better match for Crowley than Darcy is. Wentworth will never be an aristocrat like the Elliots, but he carves out a life he considers valuable using new rules. Sound familiar?

Are Wentworth’s and Crowley’s morals obviously a bit different? Yes, of course. Crowley is a DEMON, after all. But Crowley conducts himself in such a way that he’s literally cast out of Heaven and removed from Hell- in other words, he’s twice been given “the rules” for how to act and has twice decided, nah, that’s not for me. Wentworth was given the rules for what he could have as a low-born man and became a wealthy, high-ranking naval officer. And Wentworth didn’t do that for love, either. He found the consideration of one’s wealth in determining whether they should be loved abhorrent. Wentworth did it for himself initially (bitterly too, maybe), just like Crowley saves the goats and the kids for himself.

And, of course, Crowley’s confession parallels Wentworth’s position in relation to Anne far more than Darcy’s position to Lizzie. Crowley says “if they (two apparent opposites) can do it, so can we,” because he knows he and Aziraphale love each other. At the start of Persuasion, Wentworth asks Anne to be his wife despite their differing societal rank because he knows they love each other. At the end of Persuasion, he asks again because he knows they have both been in agony, that they both love each other as much as they ever did.

Darcy, meanwhile, does not know if Lizzie loves him, but arrogantly believes she will accept on the basis that what he can offer her monetarily is better than what anyone else can, not knowing what she actually values. She demolishes him.

On that note, that’s really the only parallel between Aziracrow and Darcy/Lizzie, only Aziraphale is Darcy. Aziraphale believed Crowley would accept his offer because he believed Crowley would want to be an angel again. Crowley believed Aziraphale would accept his offer because he knew they loved each other.

These are all very different characters, but ultimately, I think we were gunning for Pride and Prejudice and wound up with Persuasion; the slowest, most agonizing burn with the most beautiful reunion. So we didn’t get “you have bewitched me, body and soul,” in S2. We got the events leading up to Persuasion, and will have S3 to watch them play out. Neil knows that Aziraphale and Crowley’s relationship is the most compelling part of the story, so I doubt they’ll be separated for long. But everything is so messy, isn’t it? So it makes sense to keep them, like Anne and Wentworth, in close proximity, in mutual, bitter, unspoken pining, but still not together. It will be absolutely delicious to watch. Isn’t that what we loved the most from S1?

Because we know they love each other. And whatever catalyzing event forces them to say it out loud will be all the better if every moment they don’t say it hurts. I don’t want a “you have bewitched me” moment, I want “I’m half agony, half hope.”

[bitterrobin]

I’ve noticed that a problem with the “Batman shouldn’t/should kill” debates around here is that a lot of people tend to self-insert themselves into the equation.

It’s always “if killing a violent guy in self defense is bad then I’m a murderer?” or “well, if it were me, I would’ve killed the guy a long time ago.”

Newsflash, you’re not Batman. You’re a real person where consequences can be applied and you need to live with whatever you’ve done.

Batman isn’t real. He’s a character owned by a massive company. In tense situations, you might often have no choice but to commit violence to save yourself. In a tense situation in DC, Batman has writers that can get him out of anything.

DC writers have the ability to write him out a situation where he could kill, with no violence committed and everyone safe. Now, whether or not they’d actually implement this kind of outcome is another issue entirely but the point stands.

Batman is a character with long-established personality, traits, moral code, history. Because he’s a fictional character, writers can’t change every single aspect of his character, they have to keep something otherwise they’re writing someone different. He’s not a real person whose sense of morality or justice can change as he ages and learns - because he can’t age. Rarely, he learns, but this chalks up to comics evolving over time due to the great conflicts/hot buttons of a specific time period when a story is being written.

“But Wasp! Writers self-insert themselves into Batman all the time!” You say. Yeah, they do. And 9 times out of 10, that piece of media turns out horribly wish-fulfilling and severely out of character continuity. Modern writers lost the plot when it comes to making Batman an undefeated god, but regardless he should be a hero.

Therefore, Batman shouldn’t kill because:

DC can always write him out of the necessity to kill.

He’s already been established for a long time to live and die by his own moral code.

He believes strongly in rehabilitative justice

He’s been established to be a symbol for a better Gotham. He kills, even discriminately, and then he’s no better than the hundreds of cops in his universe. Racism, classism, police brutality exist in Gotham. There’s full storylines and series about the GCPD and the role they fill in Gotham when Batman exists.

Batman does their jobs better than they do (usually). He’s supposed to represent justice in a way the police can never be. In a city like Gotham, fictional it may be, distrust and violence comes easy. Murder and assault runs rampant. A vigilante committing themselves to killing would do nothing to change Gotham, nothing to change the GCPD, nothing to project an image of safety, nothing for anyone.

Batman is Batman because he represents hope and compassion in a city without it.

[gatheringbones]

[“The fact that my body has become a source of at least as much misery as pleasure has paradoxically made it easier for me to stop calling myself a lesbian and use the term bisexual instead. I just don’t have the energy any more to hold up facades. Back in 1971, I initially told people I was bisexual, but discovered this meant that straight people saw me as a heterosexual who occasionally dabbled in not-very-serious sex with “other girls,” while gay people saw me as a dyke who hadn’t come all the way out of the closet yet. Nobody trusted me, and nobody would dance with me. In 1980, when Sapphistry was about to be published and my first article about lesbian S/M appeared in The Advocate, I said in that article that if I had a choice between being marooned on a desert island with a vanilla dyke or a leather boy, I would take the boy. I got an extremely irate phone call from Barbara Grier, owner of Naiad, the company that was going to publish Sapphistry, informing me that they did not publish books by bisexual women, and if that was what I was, she would yank the book. Already in the midst of a firestorm about being public as a sadomasochist, I acquiesced, and delayed this coming out by another twenty years. I became “a lesbian who sometimes has sex with men.”

I still think this is a valid category, and remain unconvinced that the most important thing you can know about someone’s sexuality is the preferred gender of their partner. But today I’d rather not argue about it. I need to keep things as simple as possible. Bisexual people are still being excluded from the gay community’s cultural and political life. And I find myself being personally affected by that exclusion. It hurts me and makes me angry in a way that it would not, I think, if I were not on some level affiliated with bisexuals. I would rather stand with a group of people who don’t expect me to turn myself into a pretzel to explain what makes my dick get hard. This doesn’t mean I think it’s wrong or passé to be a Kinsey 6. But I do think a quest for purity of any sort is almost always morally dangerous.

Being more open about having sex with men has brought my own gender dysphoria to the fore. When I put my body up against a male body, what I notice is how hard it is for me to feel connected to my own flesh. Even more important has been the experience of loving someone who is a female-to-male transsexual (FTM), my domestic partner, Matt Rice. I knew Matt before he transitioned, and it has been such a positive change for him. By taking testosterone and getting chest surgery, he not only allowed himself to become and live as a man, he became a much better person—kinder, more patient, happier, sexier, sweeter. (Although he still won’t suffer fools gladly.) The fact that Matt has managed his transition with this degree of success gives me hope that I might be able to find a less distressing place for myself. I expect, like any other coming out, this will have its shitty aspects. But I think it will also create a greater sense of freedom and comfort.”]

pat califa, from layers of the onion, spokes of the wheel, from a woman like that: lesbian and bisexual writers tell their coming out stories, 2000

[sleepyelliee]

how john and abigail treat you after finding out your dating jack. part two.

before you continue!

GN reader, implied financial issues, brief mentions of the VDL gang, brief mention of injury, implied starvation and poverty. Jack is nineteen years old, Abigail and John survive AU. Implied malnourishment Loosely proofread, lmk if I missed anything. just 'you.'

credits...

thank you so much for the love on the last post!! lmk if you want me to write more of this series. part one.

One of my mutuals gave me this idea, so thank you so much @creamqueen <3.

puppy love trope implied with jack marston <3.

Throughout the short period of knowing the marston family, you managed to make a name for yourself in that household. You were popular within the walls of the ranch because it seemed like the couple's lovestruck son didn't ever stay quiet about you, everyday either John or Abigail had to hear about how pretty you were, how you were such a sweetheart, the looks that you give him, and the list seemed to go on without a stop.

Abigail and John both enjoyed your company in that small amount of time of meeting them couple weeks back. Abigail basically became the mother you never had due to her wanting to teach you everything and anything because you were never able to experience that growing up. She loved the sweet mannerisms that would escape your lips whenever you thanked her for something she would've considered small - hand sewing your clothes, fixing up old clothes that had holes in them, teaching you new recipes and she adored whenever you would compliment her food, knowing you aren't as lucky as most, causing her to insist on giving you more food because your small and malnourished body always makes her heart break.

She was also grateful that her son managed to find someone sweet as you, she was afraid that the morales and respectful demeanor she stuck into that boy's head would've gone to waste on someone who was a bad influence. Afterall, she didn't want her son to be following the same path they were running away from for years.

John was no different to you, he was carrying towards you in his own way, he would back up his beloved wife when they tried to convince you to stay over, always buying freshly new packed cigarettes for you and invites you out on the porch as he would tell you old stories of running in a gang - scolding you in the process not to make the same mistakes he did. He smuggles... insists giving you money whenever he would shove it in the pocket of your coat whenever Abigail would fix up your clothes, he knew that you needed it more to keep yourself stable because you'll decline the money otherwise. John decides to set up a room for you in the attic without telling you and gets his beloved wife's opinion aswell as the pair would decorate the room and put things you were lacking - warm blankets, couple of snacks, shoes, clothes and whatever else jack tells them that you needed at the moment.

Both parents also took notice of how Jack no longer called you by your first name. Anytime he spoke about you at dinner, he would call you sweetheart, love, darling, honey or anything that came to his mind that caused his cheeks to grow a rosy red.

He was excited for you to see the room they set up for you, it meant that you finally you have a chance to relax and enjoy a fully cushioned bed without having to worry about bills or food. It also meant that he gets to see you more often and spend more time with you.

He knows that your not fully moved in yet, but the thought of you staying here for a couple of nights makes the young man excited, Afterall he misses you whenever your not around.

...

When you found yourself on the property that belonged to the Marston's once again, you were learning back in the chair as your boyfriends father spoke about his past, mentioning couple members of the gang he used to run in. He slipped a pack of cigarettes to you like he does normally, insisting that you should take one or more.

You don't know how you found yourself smoking cigarettes as the cold wind blew against you to Jack showing the new room they are allowing you to stay in for however you'll like with a big grin on his face - excited that your going to stay over for a couple more nights than just one.

It still didn't change the fact that his arms were wrapped tightly against you, his nose buried deep in your neck as he muttered reassuring words, hoping you'll accept the offer as you two laid down on the small bed, squished together making the proximity closer.

...

Most cases whenever you stayed over, Jack would either be in the room that is considered yours or you'll be in his. You two would sleep until Jack would wake you up, hearing Abigail scold both of you through the door, stating that it's late and breakfast is already cold. Depending on the gunslingers mood, sometimes he would smart-mouth his mother just to hold you longer, causing him to get scolded more.

You two would help John with ranch work, he would always try to impress you in some type of way or both of you would get distracted and his father would scold you both.

thank you so much for reading! please do not repost my work on any other platform, reblogs and likes are very appreciated! <3. masterlist

[mikefrawley]

We Are Worthy

Greetings my friends, and yes that is the old poet in living color. I hope everyone is well today. I was thinking about my be good to yourself posts from two or three months ago, and decided I needed to remind myself how good life actually is and how blessed we all truly are. After making some growth producing changes, you could accurately state that I was indeed comfortably perched atop my own personal pink cloud, which is a 12 step phrase generally describing the emotional state of someone who just turned their lives around one way or another. Well I must admit that was quite a wonderful feeling, and I truly enjoyed sharing positive thoughts and words with my friends here and at work, but then life seemed to throw in a monkey wrench as life is ofttimes wont to do. May came along and after almost 42 years as a computer programmer it was obviously time to retire, even though I probably wouldn't have made the decision on my own, my company graciously assisted me by kicking my butt out the door. For the first couple of weeks I was pretty shook up. I mean, I've never been retired before. What was I supposed to do? Miracously it turned out to be a blessing in disguise by forcing me to keep both my mind and body busy. I've taken care of some admittedly confusing yet necessary financial updates, and with all the time on my hands, I've been taking several walks a day, meditating, and watching Thich Nhat Hanh and Plum Village Videos on my computer. That was a good start, but I still had too much time on my hands and needed to take action. I first started by checking my Medicare Provider and found out that they would pay for a gym membership. I went over the next mornning and got a full membership, and I have really enjoyed it for about three weeks now. I had been trying to find a place for Buddhist Meditation or a Temple with very little luck, and by coincidence (if you happen to believe in such things, which I do not), I found a martial arts school which teaches Tai Chi. After a little more digging I discovered the teacher was from the same Chinese Boxing Lineage that I had studied with over 30 years ago. It's a small world indeed, but wait, it gets even better. I found out that my insurance would pay for the Tai Chi Class as well, and yes I signed up immediately. I apologize if this post is selfish, but it felt good to write, and maybe there is a small moral to the story. Yes everything is going surprisingly well for me, and while I'm very grateful to God, Love, Grace or whatever you wish to call it, I'm partially in this very enjoyable position because I've done what I needed to do. Admittedly I haven't always done very well with that part of it, but maybe I am deserving of my best, aren't you deserving of your best? That's about all for now, but please remember, you are indeed worthy of good things. Love to all, Mike 🩷

[yanderes-galore]

And lastly, I recently got into dark souls, and I was wondering if you could do a concept of Ornstein and Smough?

I love them even if I can't figure out a plot for the life of me so here I go trying.

I'm so sorry for its length, I struggled hard on this for whatever reason.

Yandere! Ornstein + Smough Concept

Pairing: Romantic/Platonic - Sharing/Rivalry

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Manipulation, Overprotective behavior, Possessive behavior, Sadism, Isolation, Kidnapping, Murder, Blood, Forced companionship/relationship.

Despite being total opposites, these two are companions meant to defend Anor Londo's cathedral.

Dragon Slayer Ornstein is a knight who has only ever been loyal to his lord and king.

He has fought in the war against dragons and served his masters with devotion.

He has respect as most knights do and is well known for his strength and loyalty.

Then there's Executioner Smough...

Smough is a large man who is sadistic and cannibalistic in nature.

He thrives on bloodshed and his nature prevents him from being a knight as revered as Ornstein in the eyes of his king.

It's funny how the two are paired...

A loyal knight... and a beast of a man with little morals.

Even worse?

You are between them.

My biggest focus in this is how different their personalities are.

Ornstein seems like the best bet for you.

He treats you the most humanely, after all he's kept his sense of honor.

He's more of a protective type, a knight who would show loyal devotion to his obsession.

While he might still imprison and isolate you, he never leaves your side.

He treats his obsession like he would his kings and lords.

While Anor Londo is abandoned by the Gods, he still knows his purpose is protection.

He'd praise you, keep you safe, treat you as though you're his most important objective now in this illusion.

Smough, of course, is a different story.

While Ornstein is the closest you'll get to chivalry in this place...

Smough is a beast.

While the executioner still keeps his vow to defend the cathedral, he delights in violence.

He's possessive and savage towards his obsession.

While Ornstein would be gentle and respectful of his affection.

Smough is more likely to squeeze you just because you're smaller and weak...

Like a twisted form of cuteness aggression to the point where you think something within you snapped.

They're so different yet are given the same task.

Protect Anor Londo, even when most of the Gods are gone.

The two could either share or fight over you.

Sharing makes sense as Ornstein would need to be there to make sure Smough doesn't get the idea to squish you.

Although fighting over you also makes sense, as Ornstein would want to protect you...

Meanwhile Smough acts rather aggressive when around his obsession.

I can see them both keeping you at the cathedral to share you.

Maybe you're the Chosen Undead, you're meant to rekindle the First Flame.

Or maybe you're another knight...

Or even just some sort of life wandering Anor Londo.

Regardless... You'll eventually encounter these two... and you may never leave.

That cathedral becomes your roadblock.

You aren't leaving there... not quite because you died...

Yet you are a prisoner to them.

While Smough is definitely an enforcer, one willing to turn anyone too close into paste...

At least you have Ornstein?

Ornstein is known for being a great knight... he provides wonderful company.

But he never lets you leave.

In that sense, he's just as bad as Smough.

While he's more respectful and understanding than Smough.

He still prioritizes his own desires and needs over yours.

He's still just as selfish as his partner, the cannibal executioner.

Said executioner is someone you expected to not convince to let you leave.

He seems too giddy to let you go.

He looks down upon you from his two false faces and you can smell the blood on his hammer.

Both of them have killed countless beasts and humans.

In fact, during your time with them, you'll probably even see it done.

Most of the time, Ornstein is occupied with you while Smough handles the issue.

As expected... you faintly hear intruders become a sickening splat and Smough chuckling.

You feel ill.

Smough is someone you expected to keep you locked here.

He's a monster in his own right, taking joy in his job.

He'd even sacrifice Ornstein if it meant getting what he wanted.

Which makes you wonder if you're enough to keep Smough from harming Ornstein... or if he'll just do so at a later time.

What makes you feel the most dread is how Ornstein acts.

The knight treats you gently, often looking after you while Smough plays executioner.

He acts nice and protective...

But you wonder why he puts up with Smough?

You wonder why he doesn't just... take you out of here?

You wonder why he won't do anything to help you...!

Why does he leave you to entertain Smough?

Why does he do any of what he does around you?

Ornstein often ignores your pleas for freedom.

Why?

Well, not only are you a good way to keep Smough under control...

But nowhere else is safe for you.

Why bother leaving? You're safest here with the two looking after you.

Smough is a beast, yes, yet he's attached to you and Ornstein reigns him in.

Ornstein doesn't help you leave as he feels this is the best place for you.

Ornstein and Smough are infamous for being a ruthless duo.

No threat can harm you if you stay here...

Ornstein never plans on rescuing you... Smough doesn't plan on letting him, either...

You're stuck here, in this illusionary cathedral, stuck with two loyal guards...

Your only way out is just as bad as the monster he trusts as his companion...

Perhaps you will die in this place... just not in the way you once thought.

[pimosworld]

Moon shine

TLOU x Triple Frontier crossover AU

Pairing-Joel Miller × f!reader × Francisco Morales

Summary- You were a bartender at Joel's place and everyone knew you were his but when you meet Francisco Morales you wonder if there’s room in your life for one more.

Rating-Explicit18+ MDNI

Content warnings- Alcohol consumption, eventual mmf dynamics, smut,angst,fluff,violence, any further warnings will be added to individual chapters.

WK-4.5k

Chapter summary- The tf boys arrive at the Boston QZ and get acquainted with the workings of the bar.

A/N- See series Masterlist for story notes

[Series Masterlist] [Main Masterlist]

Chapter I The pleasures all mine

“Sorry it took us longer to get here than we originally said.” Will insisted on being the only one to speak to Joel so as to not ruffle any feathers. Santi is seated in the chair next to him as he fidgets uncomfortably. The office was neat but worn, much like Joel. Filled with things from before, the wooden mahogany desk Joel sat behind as he took a more relaxed posture to the serious conversation. 

  Benny moves idly around the room,touching things he shouldn’t as Frankie nervously leans on the wall near the door. He’s still on edge from the events it took to get here and he wants to be aware of all his surroundings. 

  “No apologies needed,I’m sorry you all lost one of your own.” Santi scoffs and Joel throws him a sideways glare. 

  “I don’t mean to be insensitive but he put himself and us in danger.” Will clears his throat and Santi hangs his head, he was usually the one in charge so it was hard for him to hold his tongue. He desperately needed to humble himself after the fallout in the Dallas QZ. This was their last opportunity to find a place to call home. 

  “We don’t need to bother you with the details of Tom's death.” Right now. 

  Joel will definitely want to hear the details at some point. If he was going to trust these men he often demanded to know everything. There were no secrets around him and the mere fact that whispering was going on behind his back in town was the reason he enlisted his cousin's help.

  “Why don’t we get down to business so you fellas can rest for the evenin.” Joel pulls a small black notebook out of his desk drawer and flips to a tan near the end. 

  “I run a pretty lucrative bar here in Boston, not the only bar but the most successful. If you’re gonna spend your ration cards you don’t want the product or the company to be shit.” The low timber in his voice is incredibly distracting to Frankie as he tries to focus on what he’s saying. 

  “I’ve run into a few problems lately and that’s not good for business. Too many fights, too many risky clientele feeling comfortable here and most importantly too many patrons hassling my bartender.”

  Frankie’s not sure why that’s the most important over the other issues, bartenders could hold their own and if they couldn’t he could just find someone else to pour the cheap liquor that most people consumed just to get some sleep or forget about the world they lived in. 

  “William and Santiago, I need you to be my eyes and ears in the bar while it’s open and outside the bar while it’s closed. Benjamin I need you to keep the patrons in line when it gets busy, I’ve had fights shut me down for a few days and we can’t have that.” He stops his wandering around the room to grin amongst the other men. 

  “So I’m just a bouncer.”

  “Ben!” Will stands from his chair to approach but Joel raises his hand, stopping any further movement.

  “It’s fine, I know it sounds boring but it will be plenty exciting.” Ben spins the globe on the desk seemingly more fascinated in that than arguing about his new job. 

  “Francisco…you have the most important job.” Frankie looks up from the scratches he’s been studying on the floor, not much interested until now what their jobs were. He just wanted somewhere to rest for the first time in weeks. 

  “I need you to look after my bartender, she’s one of the main reasons why this place is so popular and lately she’s been getting hassled.” He turns to him, raising an eyebrow but lets him continue. “Make sure she can do her job with no interruptions and walk her home when I have late business dealings at the bar.” He thinks it’s a joke at first but he sees the seriousness in Joel’s face. 

  Joel was not a small man, he had strong broad shoulders and a commanding tone that said he was not to be fucked with. Frankie doesn’t need to continue to list the reasons why he couldn’t bring himself to look anywhere but the floor before being addressed formally.Until now

  “Excuse me, I don’t mean to be rude but you seem like a man that can take care of his staff without question.” Joel smiles a wide berth grin that would have anyone else on their knees.

  “I certainly can take care of my staff but I can’t be everywhere at once. In order for me to continue my business as usual I need to make sure she’s safe.”

  Ben is bent over in laughter and Frankie’s jaw clenches at the sight of Santis' shoulder visibly shaking while his back is turned to him.

  “I’m sorry for complaining about my job Joel, I’d gladly be a bouncer over a babysitter.” Frankie shoots him a look and Ben just raises his hands in mock surrender. 

  “Jesus Ben what the fuck is wrong with you,are you trying to embarrass me.” Will is in his face now practically spitting fire. 

  Joel hasn’t so much as flinched throughout the entire meeting, he seems eerily calm despite the group of men all but spitting in his face at the offer of jobs and a place to stay. They weren’t much for authority after the outbreak or staying in one place too long. It was a hard habit to break.

  “Relax Will I know you boys have had a long journey, I’ll just chalk it up to exhaustion and hope it doesn’t happen again.” He says the last part directly to Benny which seems to temporarily shut him up.

  Frankie’s had enough of this meeting and he's  wondering what is so goddamn special about this…

  Suddenly the door to the office opens and from where he’s standing he thinks maybe he’s died and gone to heaven. 

  You’re standing there in a baby blue sundress, the stark contrast to your black combat boots. You’re holding a tray with a drink that looks like a traditional old fashioned and a single cigar. Three two luxuries he hasn’t had in awhile standing right in front of him.

  “Joel…I’m so sorry, I didn’t know you were expecting people. I’ll come back later.” 

  “Hold on sugar, not so fast. I'd like you to meet a few people.” He motions for you to come over and you hesitantly make your way around the desk to set the tray down. He taps on his thigh with one finger so subtle that only you could see. 

  It wasn’t unlike Joel to show possession but in what seemed to be a private meeting this was unusual. Still you knew not to test him in front of company you could be a brat on your own time.

  You took a seat on his lap with your legs tossed to the side, you were feeling exposed in your dress and it didn’t help when he had you seated so precariously. He looked at you with those deep brown eyes, they almost seemed black with the way he was so excited to be showing you off. 

  “I should be the one apologizing to you, this meetings gone on longer than I anticipated and it’s cutting into our special time.” He talks as if you’re the only one in the room and your cheeks grow hot at the bold way he suggests what you were going to do in his office. 

  Frankie’s throat has gone dry, the temperature in the room is stifling as he feels a bead of sweat travel down his back. He should look somewhere else but he can’t take his eyes off the way your dress rides up the way you're seated on Joel’s lap. His large calloused hands rubbing slowly up and down your thigh as he talks so sweetly to you. 

  He wonders what it would feel like to get his hands on you, your skin looks so soft and he can imagine his face buried between…

  “Fish…” Did someone say his name?

  You’re chuckling to yourself  as you finally meet his gaze, those soft brown eyes much like Joel’s but just a hint of innocence. He takes his cap running his fingers through those soft locks and quickly places it back on his head. You wonder what it would feel like to run your fingers through his hair or grip it as he…

  “He’s the one that’ll be looking after you.” Joel’s voice brings you back to the moment and all you can seem to remember is someone called him.

  “Fish?” You look at the older blonde and incredibly handsome man sitting across from you for some guidance. 

  They all laugh amongst themselves, perhaps some inside joke you weren’t privy to and you can’t help but notice how handsome they all are. The younger blonde who is much too enthralled in the trinkets in Joel’s office, lets you know he hasn’t seen much of life before the outbreak. If it weren’t for Joel you wouldn’t know of such things either. 

  The shorter man with the salt and pepper curls gave you a flirtatious wink, not unlike some of the men in Boston who tried to gain your attention. You didn’t have time for men like him but he seemed more of a gentleman than the latter. 

  “Umm…it’s just a nickname sweetheart, his name is Frankie, the bouncy one over there is my brother Ben, this is Santi and my name is Will.” You’ll be sure to remember Frankie. 

  Joel squeezes your thigh and tips his head towards the room. 

  “My name is Moonshine.” You still weren’t sure about these men and you weren’t interested in giving out your real name just yet. 

  Joel leans in close to your ear, his breath is hot on your skin as he traces that spot on your neck with his lips. “This shy sweet act you’re puttin on is cute.” He loves to tease, and right now you’re not feeling like being your usual bratty self. 

  “Joel I really should be getting the bar set up for tonight.” You’ve had enough of being on display and you figure he’s made his point whatever that may be. 

  “Sure thing Darlin.” He taps your leg as you stand and hands you the drink on the tray. Confusion etched across your face as to why he would hand you his afternoon cocktail. 

  “You should let Francisco have a taste, it seems like he wants to try it.” Frankie forgets how to breathe, it’s like all the air has been sucked out of the room.Was it that obvious? The way he’s been transfixed on you. If so then he’s surely out of a job before it even starts. 

  You cross the short distance to him silently thanking the gods that you remembered how to move your legs. You hand him the glass and your fingers barely touch but you both feel the electricity between you. Your composure was breaking sitting in Joel’s lap and now it’s threatening to combust. Just as you reach the door you hear Joel clear his throat behind you. You silently curse under your breath as you turn on your heel. 

  “Moon, don’t you want to see Francisco’s face when he tries it? You made it after all.” The way Joel says his name and the way you’re looking at him, pleading more than anything to be out of this situation. 

  He lifts the glass to his lips without breaking your eye contact and it takes everything in him not to moan at the strong but sweet flavor as it floods his senses. He doesn’t think he’s tasted anything this good in a very long time. You don’t miss the way his throat bobs as he takes two large gulps of the drink. Joel liked it from before and he taught you how to make it, you hope Frankie likes it just as much. 

  “This…this is incredible. I’ve never tasted anything like it.” It feels like he’s staring into your soul, you haven’t felt like this since…you met Joel. 

  “I’m sure you haven’t.” Joel drops his tone dangerously low and you can feel the shift in the room. So can he and he knows there won’t be much back talk from the team now. 

  “You can go now sweetheart, I’ll see you later.” You finally leave the office and desperately clutch your chest on the other side of the wall, trying to catch your breath. You need to get a grip around him or you are going to be in big trouble. 

  “That right there is why we’re the best bar in town.” Joel’s pointing in Frankie’s direction and he hasn’t taken his eyes off the melting ice in the glass as the condensation drips down his fingers. “We also have the best booze.” Frankie looks at him now and he knows why his job is the most important. 

  “You guys take tonight off and rest, your apartments are upstairs a few floors above the bar. Feel free to come down for a drink when you’re rested.” A bed and a hot shower sounded like heaven right about now. 

  “You sure you don’t want us to start tonight.” Will never wanting to be a burden can’t help but offer as Ben grumbles from somewhere in the room. 

  “No I’d actually prefer you watch how things run normally so you can see for yourself what I’m dealing with.” Joel stands from his desk to shake each of their hands as they exit the room and Frankie sets the glass down on the tray before shaking his. 

  He turns to him before he leaves hesitating in the doorway. “Thank you for this opportunity Mr.Miller,it was a pleasure to meet you.” He picks up the glass as he laughs, swirling it around, eyeing the way it moves so freely.

  “The drink must have been good if you’re thankin me already.” He takes the rest of the drink down in one gulp and sets it back on the tray. “You can call me Joel and the pleasures all mine.” 

  Frankie finally exits the room taking a few deep breaths as he walks through the bar. Fuck he was in big trouble.

  ****

Later that night after some much needed rest and the hottest shower the boys have had in months they all file down to the bar to grab a drink and do some intel. 

  It’s plenty packed as they slide into a large booth in the corner of the room. They’re used to having eyes on them but there’s so much commotion they’re hardly noticed. The bar smells of smoke and stale cologne. It’s a myriad of noises from the dragging of chairs across the floor to the clinking of glasses in celebration. Inside this bar would almost make you feel like things were normal outside. 

  There’s a small stage with a beautiful brunette playing songs on a guitar. She must be around their age if she’s old enough to know these songs, of course Santi’s attention is rapped on her as the sweet melody carries  throughout the noise of raucous laughter and men getting a little too loud. A few couples are dancing on the small black and white tiles in front of the stage. People seem to be happy here or at least attempting to be. 

  The wall is lined with booths with cracked red leather seats and cherry wood tables. The middle of the room is mostly tables and chairs where a lot of the seedy men Joel mentioned have congregated. Will notices a lot of ration cards being passed about and makes a mental note to mention it to Joel. It seems too much side business is happening in this bar which is sure to bring some unwanted attention. 

  Ben hears some yelling at the front door and sees Joel dragging someone out by their collar, he starts to slide out of the booth before Will grabs his shoulder and tugs.

  “We’re supposed to be observing.” Ben shrugs his arm off and sits back against the booth. 

  “You expect me not to go over there?” 

  “I thought you didn’t want this job.” Joel closes the door and glances their way offering them a curt smile. 

  “Ya well I wouldn’t mind hitting someone right about now, he wasn’t lying when he said I wouldn’t be bored.” Bennys fingers are tapping the table nervously, he was ready to start his new job if it meant he could rough some people up and get paid again. 

  Until the scuffle at the front door Frankie’s attention has been solely on you. From the moment he walked in he could tell you were in your element. The way you moved so fluidly behind the bar like it was second nature. You had to have at least 30 people waiting for drinks and you somehow managed to command attention from all of them. He was focused on the way your lips moved when you asked what they wanted or the way you spoke with your eyes to let someone know you’d be right with them. You would make 3 or 4 drinks at a time without breaking a sweat. It was entirely too distracting when you would shake the drink high over your head with one hand and manage to pour a beer with the other. Now he notices the line is gone as well as you. 

  “Hi boys.” A tray of beers slamming on the table snaps him out of his trance. You’re wearing a black thin tank with cut off black shorts and your boots from earlier. The red lipstick is a little faded from wearing all night but it compliments you perfectly. He can smell the hint of vanilla and something citrus wafting off you over the pungent smells of the bar. 

  “I saw you come inside a while ago but I was so busy, I hope beer is fine I don’t really have time to make you my specialty cocktail.” You place the glasses and pour them all beers noticing the way Frankie is watching you. 

  “Beer is fine sweetheart, thank you.” Will says looking around the table at his friends who’ve seemed to be interested in other things. 

  “Pope quit gawking at the singer.” Your head snaps to the stage and you smirk to yourself. 

  “So…Pope and Fish, any other nicknames I should know about?” 

  “Iron head is by brothers I don’t have one.” Ben squeaks out before his brother can stop him. You raise an eyebrow at the younger man before turning to the group. 

  “It was our call sign in the military.” Will seems suddenly bashful so you decide not to pry. 

  “What about you Moonshine, you look a little young for that nickname.” Frankie finally speaks a little more confident than he was earlier in the day and you figure now is as good a time as any to drop the shy act. 

  “You don’t look like a Fish and I’m sure you’ll find out soon enough.” You wink as you flip the tray under your arm. “Oh by the way my name is -, and ugh… Pope her name is Charity.” You point to the brunette on stage and he smiles to himself as you turn and walk away. 

  “So what’s her real name?” You spin on your heel and walk back to the table, as you reach across to grab his beer from his hand Frankie can just barely see down your black tank top, you down Santi’s beer in no time flat, as you tipped your head back some beer spilled down your neck and it takes all the willpower in the world for Frankie to not lean forward and lick it off you. 

  “Her real name is Charity ass hole.” You pour him another beer as Benny gives you a slow clap, pleasantly amused at his friend's wide eyed expression. 

  You saunter away towards the bar as Pope gives a low whistle. 

  “Have fun with that one hermaño.” Frankie shoots Santi a look that says drop it and he knows he’s only kidding but he realizes that he does indeed have his work cut out for him. 

  “Get your hands off me!” You haven’t made it very far when he sees some grubby older man has your arm in a grip that is sure to leave marks. Joel’s crossing the room before Frankie even realized he was standing and heading towards the table. 

  “I’ve been waiting for a drink for ten minutes.” He’s practically spitting in your face, piss drunk and certainly doesn’t need anymore. Ben obviously moved faster than any of them could and too fast for Will to stop him. Much to his surprise he grabs the man’s arm and pries his fingers from yours. You take a step back directly into Frankie and he holds you before you stumble. 

  Joel comes up to you, caging you in between him and Frankie and you’re suddenly less concerned with your arm and more concerned at their close proximity to you. This would be a fantasy in any other circumstance but right now you wished you were anywhere else. 

  “You okay sweetheart, are you hurt?” He’s looking you over for any signs that you need help but he knows you’re used to it. Which is why he asked for help in the first place. You shouldn’t have to get used to treatment like this. 

  “I’m fine Joel, just Jim way too drunk again.” He leans in and places a soft kiss on your cheek and you can still feel the heat coming from Frankie as your back is pressed to his chest, his hands still idly placed on your hips. 

  Joel makes his way over to Ben who is all but grinning at the man who he has pinned to the table. He leans down and whispers something in the drunk man’s ear causing him to tense slightly. 

  “Ben, why don’t you help our friend find his way outside.” He yanks him up by his collar, not waiting for his footing to steady and all but drags him out of the bar. The entire display is a warning to any other patrons who think they’re going to continue this behavior in his establishment any longer. 

  Frankie releases you and silently curses himself for holding onto you for so long. You turn to face him and you can feel it again, that spark from earlier that threatens to ignite something inside you. He just stares at you for a moment and something is pulling him in, as dangerous as it is he can’t ignore it. 

  “Thanks Francisco.” Joel’s voice breaks you apart and you both jump back as if you had been caught doing something in the middle of the bar. You stumble around to the bar to attend to the people who’ve been waiting. 

  “Looks like you’re itching to start your job.” Joel crosses his arms and nods his chin at you already diligently working. 

  “I’m sorry…I just couldn’t sit by and watch.” Frankie doesn’t know what to do with his hands as he fiddles with the hem of his flannel. This is the closest he’s been to Joel and he can see the age lines and the soft curls, he can see why you’re so taken with him. He leans in close so that only Frankie can hear.

  “No need to apologize…it’s why I picked you after all.” Joel walks to the front of the stage  and Frankie can still feel his hot breath ghosting over his neck. 

  “Last call folks, I hope you enjoyed your night.” He walks over to you planting a kiss on your temple before retreating to his office for the night. 

  They finish their beers as they watch the people file out, staying to make sure you don't have any problems. You insisted they head up since Joel wouldn’t be working late tonight, unfortunately for Frankie you wouldn’t need a personal escort but he would have his chance soon. 

  ****

  You collapse into Joel, both of you trying to catch your breath after he somehow managed to pull 3 orgasms out of you. Something was up with him tonight and quite frankly had been all day. You really should get up but lying on his chest feeling the rise and fall as his breath evens out is starting to lull you to sleep. He’s humming some tune he always does after sex while he trails his fingers up and down your sweaty back. 

  “Sorry if I was too rough Shine.” You pepper kisses along his chest as you try to see his face in the dark room only lit by the moon. You can see his brow furrowed in deep concentration. The complete opposite of what it should be in this moment. You draw your thumb across his forehead to smooth it out causing a low chuckle from him. 

  “You could never be too rough with me.” You trace the line of his bicep with your finger down his arm before interlocking yours with his. 

  “I was wondering what got into you today though? This morning when I met the guys you were acting strange.” He huffs and ponders his words as he continues to lightly rub you. 

  “It was just a lot of testosterone in the room and maybe I got a little carried away…it won’t happen again.” You know he cares for you so deeply and it was honestly harmless but you don’t want anything worrying him more than what he already has to deal with. 

  “But since we’re on the subject…I could ask you the same thing.” You tense slightly just enough for him to notice and you think this is it, you’ve been caught. You don’t want to be the reason they’re all out of a job. 

  “No need to worry sugar, he’s real pretty.” 

  “I promise I was not” He grabs your chin and tilts it up to face him.

  “Don’t lie to me.” That was your one rule, never lie. You gather your thoughts for a moment to weigh your options. You have to be honest with him, and you haven’t actually done anything wrong, not yet at least. 

  “Yes…he’s very handsome but they all are.” He smiles so wicked you could see it in the dark. 

  “You don’t really care for the others though…it’s not wrong to notice.” You’ve only been with Joel and you’re not sure why he’s being so calm about this whole thing. 

  He rolls you off him so he’s on top of you, supporting his weight on his elbows. He dips his head down ghosting his lips over yours and you can feel him slowly getting aroused again. He kisses you soft and sweet, he always takes his time as he pulls away from you taking your bottom lip between his teeth. A simple kiss from him could leave you so breathless. 

  “All I’m sayin is… you’re young and there’s enough love in your heart for more than one person.” I guess you’ll have to read between the lines. Either way it seems you both have other plans for Francisco. 

Next

Comments and reblogs are much appreciated.

@fishingforpike @christinamadsen @theywhowriteandknowthings

[ghostgorlsworld]

Johnny Boy (part six)

Werewolf! Johnny x reader

part one is here

Once upon a time, you would've done anything for John Mctavish. He had been your older brother's cool best friend, and you were always desperate for him to see you as more--until one fateful night that ends up with you pregnant and him...gone. Fast forward six years and you've made a good life for yourself with your daughter Emma, with Johnny none the wiser. Until he decides to knock on your door.

Guys I cannot stress this enough, there is SMUT in this chapter. There is also dubious consent because of alcohol, as well as dark!Johnny being dark. He's not a good guy in this story and he's not all the way human, so his morals are WAY off--also I don't write smut very often so pls tell me if it was bad.

A bottle of wine later and you were feeling much better about the situation. After all, you weren’t sure you even wanted to kiss Charlie–he dressed like a frumpy old man and had weekly dinners with his grandmother. 

Before he was a slag, those qualities were endearing, like a stray dog with an ear flopped over. Now, they were just…unappetizing.

Not like Johnny, ridiculous mohawk or no. 

You uncorked another bottle of the expensive wine Tom had gotten you for Christmas and poured yourself another hefty glass, Pride and Prejudice 2005 keeping you company on the telly. 

It was nine o’clock. You texted Tom to make sure he had Emma in bed, just a touch too tipsy to see the keys properly.

Yes, she’s asleep, are you drunk??

You smiled to yourself. No.

Did you get stood up again?

You sniffled. Fuck off. 

You forced yourself away from the phone, focusing back on Mr. Darcy and the infamous hand scene. 

You found yourself thinking about Johnny again. The first time he kissed you was a little fuzzy, but you could remember the hand gripping your chin, the fingers digging into your skin. 

It had been like he had wanted to devour you, and you were just happy to be devoured. 

It was half-way through the glass when a knock came to the door.

It was probably Charlie, with his tail between his legs. You sighed, pausing the telly as you wobbled to your feet.

“What?” You snapped, ripping the door open.

“Nice pajamas, kitty.”

Johnny stood on your doorstep once again, carrying a takeout box that smelled suspiciously like your favorite pizza and garlic knots. He smiled, so blue-eyed and pretty it physically made you want to cry.

“What do you want?” You sighed, steadying yourself against the wall. “Can’t a girl wallow in peace?” “Ah, did I interrupt a pity party, kitty?” Johnny teased, inviting himself in. “Perfect. I brought ye dinner.”

“Johnny,” you said, your voice pitching close to a whine. 

He stilled, looking at you. His hand came up, pinching your chin like he used to. “You havnae called me Johnny in a very long time.” The rawness of his voice broke you down into someone you used to be, someone that loved him. You leaned into the warmth of his palm, unable to stop yourself. “You were gone, Johnny. I missed you.” Johnny’s fingers tightened on your jaw, his mouth twisting to the side. His eyes flickered to the table, where the empty bottle sat. “You’re shit-faced, kitty.” You nodded, his thumb sliding up to brush against your bottom lip. “M’a light weight now. Motherhood means bein’ responsible, and no drinkin’.” “It looks good on ye,” Johnny said, finally dropping his hand.

“What, the alcohol?”

“Bein’ a mother. I used to think about it sometimes, what you were doing–if you were with anyone, if you had any pups yet.” Johnny turned, busying himself with the pizza. “When they let me reach out to Tom, I think the first words out me mouth were about you.” That surprised you. “He never told me about that.” “Mmm,” Johnny rumbled. “He’s a good brother. He told me you were happy, and that you weren’t alone. That was it, no matter how much I asked.” He put a slice on a plate and gave it to you. “Now sit, kitty. I need you to sober up a bit.” You obeyed, taking a bite as you sat before him. “I stopped trying to find you after her third birthday. I just figured that you would be better off not knowing, you know, I could finally move on.” The alcohol had dampened the anger in your chest, you felt…open. Open to talking about it. Bleeding the poison from the wound.

Johnny slid a hand into his pocket, pulling out a very worn, very tattered picture of-

You. It was you six years ago, Johnny’s arm around your shoulder as you laughed.“Carried it w’me all over the world, kitty.” That contradicted everything. “But why? You don’t…” you trailed off, the wine haze falling away with your shock. 

“Why do you think I left, lass?” Johnny asked, his eyes reflecting the glare of the dim kitchen lights. “Did you ever ask yourself why the fuck I didn’t call you or why I never responded to your letters?” This was confusing. You frowned. “Of course I did. I just figured you…you grew out of me. You found your family with people more like you.” Johnny reached into his coat and pulled out a wad of papers, neatly gathered by a rubber band. 

They were letters. Your letters, the ones you had sent when he left the first time, the pages yellowed and crumpled with use, as if they were read often. 

“I kept ‘em, every last one,” Johnny trailed a hand over the paper, gently as if they were something precious. “Does it look like I forgot you?” “Sure felt like it,” you said, but the venom was gone. 

“Some of them still smelled like you. The lads  thought I’d lost me mind, reading the same fucking letters every night after missions.”

“Johnny,” you said. “Johnny this doesn’t make any sense, I thought…I thought you came for Emma.” “I dinnae know she even existed, kitty, I thought I was doing the right thing, staying a world away from you.” “But why? You-you broke my heart, I thought you didn’t want anything to do with me or Tommy.” Within a blink, Johnny was kneeling before you, his hands on your knees as his eyes bored into yours. You felt a chill, a whisper of fight or flight pricking your neck at his predatory stare.

“It wasn’t right, what I felt for the little girl I taught how to ride a bike, kitty,” he whispered. “I left because you were sixteen and I shouldn't have been thinking the things I was thinking. It’s different for wolves, see, we…we know when someone is right for us, we can smell it, and it’s hard to fight instinct, kitty, it’s who we are.” “But I loved you enough to think about your future. I wanted you to have a life without me standin’ over your shoulder, I wanted to give you time to choose what you wanted.” “I wanted you,” you said honestly, reeling from his words. “I know, kitty, but that didn’t make it right. I came back a few years later thinkin’ maybe things would be different, that maybe I could control myself but…I couldn’t stand bein’ in a fuckin’ room with you. I couldn’t breathe, I couldn’t think, so I signed for another contract, this one different from the others. They would take me away from you, and in return I could hunt, I could be me, the real me, for the first time in me life–because if I was myself around you, you wouldn’t like it very much, bonnie.” He nuzzled into your neck, breathing in deep. “Then suddenly you were there, the night before I was s’posed to leave, and you were fuckin’ sloshed and gorgeous and everything I couldn’t have.” You remembered that night fuzzily. It hadn’t taken much, just a smile pointed his way and your clumsy kiss on his cheek then suddenly he was pulling you away from the bar, shoving his tongue down your throat in the dark back alley. He had tasted like beer and whiskey and Johnny. You had never wanted him more.

Your eyes welled up. You looked away, blinking furiously. “Johnny,” you sighed. “I can’t. I spent six years being so unbelievably hurt, you can’t fix it in a night.” He kissed your jaw, teeth scraping against your skin. “I know, kitty, I’ll spent the rest of our fuckin’ life making it right. Everything I ever wanted with you happened while I wasn’t here, I’ll never let you go now.” You tried to push him away, but Johnny was a big lad, his hands sliding to your hips to clutch you closer. He licked away the tears on your cheek with a hum, just like Emma always tried to do. 

“I’m not yours,” you said, your voice holding zero conviction. “You left.”

But Johnny wasn’t paying attention, his face in your hair. “You smell like the mother of my baby, ” he said roughly, inhaling. “When Tom told me you were with someone two years ago, I lost control for the first time in a fucking decade. Bit a head off or two, imaginin’ they were him, this bastard you allowed in my place.” His teeth nipped at your collar, already longer and sharper than they had been a moment before. 

“John,” you said, pushing at his chest. “What are you doing?”

Johnny pulled away, his eyes sparkling. “C’mon, kitty cat, we both know how pent-up ya are,” he went in for a kiss but you turned your head, his mouth landing on your chin. It didn’t stop him though, his tongue laving a line from your chin to the corner of your mouth. “Please, kitty, lemme help,” Johnny panted, his breath hot and sticky against your skin. “I’ll make it worth your while.”

You had forgotten how gross he was sometimes, how he liked to lick and bite, even when you play-fought as kids. It turned you on more than anything, white-hot liquid pooling in your belly as the musky taste of his hormones filled the air.

You let him kiss you. Johnny made a noise, a mix between a growl and a whine as he got to work ruining your mouth. It wasn’t a good kiss–but it was so Johnny, messy and wild and slightly painful, his teeth catching on your bottom lip just so he could lick the pinpricks of blood away. 

“Missed ya, kitty cat,” he said, forcing you to look in his eyes while he swiped his tongue back into your throat. “All I had was a picture and letters, but I could get off just from you writing that you missed me, just from your smell lingering on the fucking paper.” You made a surprised noise in the back of your throat, the wine causing you to shift in your seat, feeling the heat of your arousal soak through your underwear.

Johnny inhaled deeply, shoving his head between your legs before you could pull away. He bit you through your pajama pants playfully, his teeth digging into the soft meat of your thigh. 

You yelped and he laughed, a harsh, gritty noise that made you shiver. “Johnny,” you whined, pushing at his head. 

“Johnny,” he mimicked, grinning as he nipped at your fingers. The glint in his eye reminded you of simpler days, when he was just lazy-eyed Johnny that made you laugh. 

“This is such a bad idea,” you said weakly. Your head was spinning, dizzy with alcohol and desire.

“You can hate me tomorrow, bonnie,” he said fondly, kissing your knee as he slid your pajama pants down your hips. 

And you allowed it. You let him shuck your pants, you let him paste sticky kisses to your underwear line, his penchant for dirty talk that you barely remembered coming in full swing as he swiped a callused finger through your slick.

“My poor girl,” Johnny cooed, sinking his teeth into your thigh as if to control himself. “I tried to be good, kitty, I tried so, so fuckin’ hard–I was gonnae take my time, win ya over, wait until you were fuckin’ gaggin’ for it, but I’m just  not that man anymore.” You slid your hand through his hair, just like you used to, that old love squeezing your heart so hard you thought it might burst. It was soft and thick, your nails scraping against his scalp. 

The simple act of affection pushed him over the edge. He had his mouth on you in an instant, the lacy edges of your underwear drifting to the floor in shreds. 

Your whine was caught in your throat when Johnny gripped your hips with sharpened nails, dragging you closer to himself with a ripple of power.

Johnny didn’t look like Johnny anymore. The humor drained from his gaze as he looked up at you, the blue sharpening into something cruel, something like a killer.

Something like a wolf. 

You looked away as he licked a line from back to front, pleasure shuddering up your spine. God it had been so long-

“Oh, no, bonnie,” Johnny panted, the sharp drag of his nails painful against your hips. “Eyes down here. Don’t ever fuckin’ look away.” His hand grabbed your chin, pulling your attention back to him. “Watch,” he said, his tone deadly soft. 

Johnny had always known how to embarrass you, how to make you squirm. He licked and sucked, dipping his tongue inside of you just to tease, just to make you yelp and blush. 

It felt like hours. You would make a soft noise and he would slide another finger inside of you just to make you squeal, the stretch making your jaw drop. 

“She’s cryin’ for it, eh, kitty?” Johnny whispered, flexing his hand. “She was fuckin’ waiting for me.” You come embarrassingly quick, gripping his hair and squirming as you cream into his mouth. He continues licking you far past the trembling aftershocks, cleaning up his mess like a good dog.

“Too much, too much,” you hissed, wriggling away from his needful mouth. 

Johnny fucking laughed at you, his mouth slick and his eyes so hazy he looked as drunk as you felt. “I’ve been thinkin’ about the way ya taste for so long I thought I dreamed it.” He looked younger for a moment, the scars disappearing, the stray gray hairs in his mohawk fading to brown. Suddenly, you couldn’t stand to look at him, the heat cooling on your skin. 

“Johnny,” you said, choking on your words. You couldn’t help the tears pricking your eyes, a stray tear falling down your cheek. 

“Shh, bonnie,” Johnny brought you in his arms, guiding your head into the space between his shoulder and neck with his wide palm. “You’re all tuckered out, hmm? I’m sorry, kitty, I didn’t mean ta push you so far…” He whispered in your ear while he carried you to bed, his accent twisting and turning the words into Scottish gibberish. You nodded sleepily against his shoulder, already half-convincing yourself that this was a dream as he tucked you in bed like a little girl.

“Night, bonnie,” Johnny whispered, pressing a scratchy kiss to your forehead. 

You mumbled something incoherent, tucking your pillow over your head.

[nerves-nebula]

Groe is such a funny character for me tbh. His main issue is that he has no sense of self outside of his relationship with someone else and his story isn’t about how, like, the solution is to figure himself out and be independent - he’s lowkey already done that multiple times. He’s lived lives without Maureno before, he doesn’t strictly speaking NEED her to survive or anything. but it always comes back to her anyway.

Because it is literally true that’s he can’t be on his own. That’s how the story goes, it’s what he’s made for. It hurts trying to be independent. He’s only a person in the first place to keep Maureno company. And I guess he could maybe be a person on his own if he wanted to, but he doesn’t want to. It’s not fulfilling enough on it’s own.

There is no moral to this story or truth about mental health or anything like that it’s just like “wouldn’t it be fucked up if you only existed for someone else” and the answer is yeah I guess it would be. Oh well! Peace and love ❤️

[mamuzzy-creates-stuff]

E for ALL the ships! Please (:

E - Do you have any favorite headcanons for this ship?

For ALL THE SHIPS!!! You really gave me a homework, love <3 But I really enjoyed writing this little compilation.

Let's see...

-- OrdoMaze --

My favorite thing about them is how they try to understand each other's functioning and motivations in life and usually this leads to conversations that can result in passionate arguments or potential fist fights and then hatesex.

Books are usually a topic they usually don't agree.

Maze is rigid in a way that he wants to feel the accomplishment that he worked very hard for a specific reward or something that is not obtainable in a military, such as: books. Eventually, the free-books available are not enough and sometimes he wants to read something other than dry information from the Jedi archive (free library pass from General Zey).

"Pirate it, then." Ordo shrugs, he doesn't understand why Maze is doing ethical dilemma over getting stuff he needs.

And then Ordo will never hear the end of it how artists, writers, content creators are working hard to tell their story, and is it harming for the creative industry to "just pirate" while not being compensated for it.

"I pirate it for you? So you won't have to feel bad for not compensating them because only I was involved in the... crime" Ordo offers, a sincere gesture to make his boyfriend happy.

Ordo will never hear the end of it but also won't understand the contradictions why morals and being a law-abiding citizen are even question here, when Maze works illegally in a low-level pub as a dishwasher with fake id and has a secret bank account so he would be able to properly pay for his books.

-- OrdoEcho --

Ordo is devastated that he can't express his love toward Echo through sharing food, because Echo is picky as fuck when it's about edibles created by natborns. So he keeps red ration bars - Echo's favorite one-, in his snack-pouches so he can surprise Echo with it~

-- OrdoEchoMaze --

Ordo and Maze is that kind of couple who are getting together and breaking up every two weeks. Maze started dating Echo when they were in this break up period and Maze decided that maybe he deserves better, more understanding and sensitive boyfriend (meaning, not the Ordo-kind of sensitive). Ordo almost killed Echo in jealousy.

-- FoxFives --

Fox and Fives' favorite datenight is going gambling, cheating their way though the games and get away with it, rewarding themselves with greasy junk food at Coruscant's low-level street carnivals, kissing in public to freak out people who think they are twins, and then soaking in naked in a public bathhouse.

-- FoxThorn --

This is an AU were Commander Fox joins later the Guard, reassigned from the fronts. And some eldritch occurences are involved too.

While Thorn was in sleeping-coma, he wasn't sleeping entirely. He heard Fox's every words who was thinking loudly while sitting at his bed or walking around the room. Fox needed someone to talk who wasn't hostile to him and who is better company for that than someone who can't mouth back?

I like the idea that Fox either shared the ideas how he will break this curse on Thorn. But sometimes he just shared that he misses the frontlines, he misses his men, he misses when he was actually knew what he was doing.

-- TEcho --

Tech and Echo first meeting was actually happened much earlier. Tech followed an interesting bug into the ventshaft, which in the end, collapsed under him and he landed in the mess hall, more precisely, in Echo's lap. (yeah. I know. I know. cheesy as fuck shut up) Echo immediately fell in love with this weird guy who protected the bug with all his life.

-- KalWalon --

Kal is shortking and Walon uses this as an advantage when he wants to piss off Kal. He actually has to bend down a bit if he wants a kiss from him.

"Beg."

"What now?"

"Beg for that kiss."

Walon realized too late that it wasn't the usual "Kal is deaf from all those explosions"-what. Kal headbutted Walon on the chin.

[stayandot8]

Chapter Four: Just One Yesterday

"If you think this story has a happy ending, you haven't been paying attention..."

Genre: angst

Relationship type: established gf/bf

Important Contents: bar setting, so mentions of alcohol, chris is a lowkey-highkey dick, swearing as usual, 18+, mentions of dr*gs, death of a child (if i miss any, please let me know)

a/n: well. it's been a long time coming but here we are, at the end of it all. thank you to everyone who has read this series. i've put quite a bit of work into this and i hope you enjoy it. if you were hoping for a happy ending tied up with a bow, i'm sorry to disappoint you. but this was the ending i decided on a while ago and it feels right to me. so. sorry if you hate, but not sorry actually. thank you to those who encouraged me to keep writing this, you know who you are. thank you for the motivation because my ADHD was close to taking over and i was ready to quit this. i'm glad i didn't. but anyways.

thank you.

-Sparkles

WC: 11.8k

last part l masterlist

~

“Come on, Chan! Won’t you play with me for just a minute?”

*

We were all sitting around, brushing glass off the ripped booth seats. The stuffing from inside them was scattered around us, Jeongin trying his best to sweep what he could from around where we had gathered in the corner. His face was creased with frown lines. 

“Innie, your face will freeze like that.” It was my best attempt at a joke to lighten the mood. Jeongin returned it with his attempt at a half-hearted smile and kept sweeping, gathering pieces of glass with every stroke. 

There was another long pause of silence. Hyunjin huffed and continued surveying everything around him with the same pained expression Jeongin was wearing. Changbin was staring at his feet while Felix was sitting between them and was laying his head on each of their shoulders. He would alternate between the two when the other was moving too much. This was the most solemn I had ever seen him. He had checked online to see if any other places in town had been hit with a break-in, but none were reported. So he resolved to be here for moral support for anyone who needed him, which was the two he was between at the moment. 

Minho was just plain pissed. He had gone missing for the time being, off to recover the camera footage from the ones he had put in. He hadn’t said a word to anyone, opting for the silent treatment. Chris just looked terrified. He was leaning against what was left of the bar and staring at the words on the wall behind it, saying something to himself over and over, just barely audible if anyone were to listen. Shaking his head at the spray painted words and fidgeting his fingers, picking at his cuticles. It was a complete turnaround from the man I had seen over the last few weeks. That one had been confident and ambitious, his wit sharp and his mind in the zone of whatever he was doing. But the one that was standing across the room… He was small, with the weight of the world on his chest, not just his shoulders. And it would crush him if he let it.

Han was sitting beside me, holding a large rock in his lap and staring at it. We had assumed that was what they had used to break in without a key, whoever they were. Han was staring at it like he felt sorry for it, 

“It never asked to be used like that.”

“That’s the strangest reaction I’ve ever heard.” And that was that. 

Seungmin had disappeared with Minho, looking at the outward damage and taking notes and pictures for the insurance company. He had sprung to action after Minho stormed off, the only other one thinking logically about the next steps. When someone offered to help, he would shoo them away and say he had everything he needed. 

I wasn’t saying much, trying to break up the long silences with something here and there. I didn’t know what to do. I couldn’t help anyone, no one needed anything. So I sat, trying to sort out the emotions I felt that someone had broken in and destroyed the only place I had ever called a home. It had to be someone with a grudge of some kind, something against someone here. I thought of asking everyone to come up with a list of anyone they could think of with enough motive to do something like this. 

Next thing we know, three cop cars pull into our parking lot. Three burly men and a younger one got out of them and carefully looked over the place before asking for someone. Seungmin went up to them and started telling them everything they needed to know; we had all just come back from vacation to find this and we had no suspects. Minho had come storming in from the office, holding his laptop under his arm. It was closed and he was still looking pissed, so it was safe to assume he didn’t find anything of use. I shot him a questioning look in case he looked my way, which he did but glanced over me and headed straight outside to the police. They conferred for a while and we all just watched them in silence. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Chris wipe his eyes and head out the back door.. 

*

“Help me… It hurts… Why does it hurt?...”

“Shhh Danny, it’s okay. Don’t talk, it’ll only make it hurt worse.”

“Chan… It hurts…”

*

“Hey.” I touched him gently on the shoulder, the cigarette that appeared out of nowhere was dangling from his fingertips. He hadn’t lit it yet, but the lighter was in his other hand. He was staring at the sidewalk, lost in thought. When he finally glanced over, his lip was quivering. He looked shaken. “Where did you get those?” He wiped his nose with his hand and sniffed. 

“I hid them back here just in case I would need them. This would be…one of those times.” I was confused. “It’s all my fault.” He took a shuddering breath and let it out, staring at the sky.

“What are you talking about?”

“I did this. I brought them here.” He whispered to me. 

“Brought who here?”

“They found me once and now they’ve come back to get their revenge. It’s all my fault.”

“Are you talking about those guys I saw you with that night?” He nodded slowly. 

“I ignored them when they reached out and this is what I’ve done. To everyone. I put everyone in danger.” His eyes had welled up and his breathing was frantic. “It’s exactly like you said would happen. I should’ve left when you caught me.”

“Chris…”

“No, I should have. I was stupid for thinking this would be far enough to keep them away. For thinking I could forget every decision I’ve made until now. All my choices have finally caught up to me and now…” The first tears had now made streams on his cheeks. “Now someone else has paid the price. Again.” 

I didn’t know what to say after that. Something in me told me there was nothing I could’ve said to him in that moment that would’ve comforted him or brought him an ounce of peace. So I just stood there beside him while he cried and thought about…whatever he was thinking about.

We just leaned against the fence in mutual silence, the unlit cigarette still in between his fingertips. After another moment, he tossed it on the ground and turned on his heel. 

“I’m going for a walk. I’ll see you later.” I nodded to his back as his muscles shifted beneath his t-shirt. I probably should have asked where he was going, and in hindsight I definitely should have.

*

After Seungmin and Minho were done with the police, they sent us all home so they could speak with anyone who might have seen anything. We were all too frustrated to do much of anything so we all met up at Felix’s bakery. He said a sweet treat might help us lift our spirits. So everyone minus Chris sat in the summer heat outside smelling the baked goods being prepared for us. Felix had closed down shop while we were gone so the place was empty, some people walking by were craning to see if the open sign was turned. It was not; it still read CLOSED.

Everyone was just as defeated as they were when we left, except now with plates of pastries in front of them, uneaten. Minho was staring at a danish on an orange plate as if his combined powers of will would lift it into his mouth if he wished it hard enough. When he decided it wouldn’t work, he just slouched further into his metal chair and sighed. 

“This is fucking ridiculous.” He tilted his head to watch the clouds go by. “Who turned off the cameras before we left?” 

“No one did. They had to have turned them off right before they did it. We have the footage of us leaving and the days after. They shut off right before the vandalism. Whoever it was must have known where they were to turn them off.” Hyunjin was being surprisingly serious about this whole thing. When he let it out, he was actually quite smart. “So if we know they were turned off, that means they knew that we had them.”

“Every restaurant worth their talent has cameras now. That’s not really an unknown fact.” Changbin chimed in. “These people knew exactly how to turn them off. We had nothing. They just… cut out.” 

“Then wouldn’t they have to have known their way in and around to find the switch?” Jeongin piped up. 

“Yes. They would have.” Minho responded. “And no one has ever told anyone anything about our camera system?” 

“It’s not really something that comes up with the two other friends I have other than you guys.” Han said sarcastically. “Not really a hot topic with the young crowd.” Minho rolled his eyes and sat back in his chair. 

“I just don’t understand…” He rambled on to those who were listening while others picked at whatever pastry was in front of them. I let my mind wander to where Chris might have ran off to. 

It was like trying to put together a puzzle without the edges: it was hard to pick a place to start. What had he rushed off to do? Was there something he needed to do right then and there?  It didn’t have to do with me, did it? I wasn’t sure. I thought about sending him a quick text just to check in, but from how he looked before he ran off, he needed space and time. And I’d give him what he needed, just like he did for me. 

“So what do we do while everything gets back in order? Twiddle our thumbs?” It was the first time Seungmin had spoken to us directly since we got to Felix’s place. 

“No. You rebuild.” Felix piped up. “You get in there and clean it up and you move on. You don’t let it get to you, no matter where it came from. You do the work and you take the time that you need to move forward. All of you.” He looked us all in the eyes, going from one to the next, holding it there so we would know he meant every word he said. Felix was good at that, saying the words people needed to hear and being sincere with all of it. It was one of his many superpowers. 

The only way through this ordeal was through. There were no ifs, ands, or buts, about it. We would find the people who did this and hold them responsible. We’d pick ourselves up, dust ourselves off, and move along just like we always had. 

“Think of it this way: now you can repaint it!” Felix, ever the bright-sided one, continued to point out all the things Minho could change now that it had been ‘taken care of for him’ until Minho stopped looking so downtrodden. The others were softly smiling at Felix with a look of wonder at how someone could be so positive and pick up the ones around him without fail.

“So.” I sighed. “Onwards, then.”

*

“But I don’t want this one, Chan. I want chocolate.”

“I know, Danny, but that one’s too high. I can’t reach it.” “What do you mean? You can do anything, Channie!”

*

It was late by the time I got back home, well past midnight. My dark apartment had long been quiet since I didn’t even have a chance to get home when he sent us. I’d gone looking for Chris only to come up empty handed. My bags were so heavy I left them in the entryway and stumbled onto my couch to lay down. I fell straight into the pillow and had one last thought before I fell asleep.

Me: Wherever you ran off to, I hope you’re okay. Come back when you’re ready. I hope that’s soon.

*

The alleyways He chose always stank of mildew. The rain tonight didn’t help. Everything was slick with water and nothing would chase away the stench of wet pavement, no matter how hard the car exhaust tried. Of course He chose tonight of all nights, when Danny wouldn’t sleep and begged to come with him wherever he was going. He had to beg him to stay in bed with a promise of pancakes for breakfast tomorrow, loaded with everything he could think of, if he would just stay in bed. 

These were the thoughts that plagued him as He showed himself for the first time that night. His usual fur coat had been switched for a slick black trenchcoat to block out the rain, but the rest of His attire was the same. His dark denim hadn’t started sticking to his legs yet, but it was sure to start now that He was out from the safety of His chauffeur-driven car. 

*

The pounding at my door startled me from my slumber with a jolt. I rubbed my eyes, my vision still fuzzy, and blinked until everything cleared. I shook my head as I stood up to stare through my peephole at a frazzled-looking Chris, his face flushed and pale and panting so loud I could hear it through the door, which I unlocked. His attention snapped to me and we locked eyes for a moment. His eyes were wild, more so than I’d ever seen before. 

“Chris?” I said lowly, voice groggy. “What time is it?” The more I looked at him, the more panicked I became. “Chris, what’s wrong?” His chest was rising and falling more rapidly now, like he couldn’t control it.

“I fucked up. I fucked up big time.” I felt my eyes grow wider.

“You better come inside.” I gestured him in.

He brushed past me and went straight for the couch, sitting on what I was just sleeping on. He bounced a little, letting himself drop onto it like I had. His eyes now were staring blankly at the TV on the wall, like he was merely looking into it. I waited until his breathing had slowed back to a semi-normal pace before offering him some water which he took. He held onto it like it was the only thing tying him to reality, like everything would shatter if he let go of that glass. I watched him grip it, his stare still blank. I let him sit there for however long he needed. 

After what felt like ages, and a few jerks awake from me, he finally spoke.

“It was them.”

“What was them? Who is them?”

“The guys who came after my dad and then me. They trashed the place. It was me.”

“What are you talking about?”

“They gave me a warning and I ignored it. I thought they were empty threats. I should’ve known better.”

“You thought a drug lord you used to work with would make empty threats?”

“I know. It was a stupid thought and I should have known better.”

“You have to tell Minho.” He sighed. 

“I know. But how? He’s the only one in this world who was willing to help me when things went to shit. How do I tell him that I betrayed him like this?”

“But how did you betray him? It’s not your fault they broke in, they made that choice themselves.”

“But I brought them here to do that. I led them straight here. They robbed him and broke everything because of me. Because I told them to leave me alone. And this is what happens when you fuck with the wrong people.” He grabbed a pillow and held it to his face and screamed. And screamed and screamed. I only placed a hand on his back for comfort, unsure of what to say. He screamed until his voice went hoarse and they dissolved into quiet tears. “It can’t happen again. Not again. Not again.”

I wasn’t sure what to do, if there was anything I could do that would console him enough to calm him down. So I got up, filled my kettle, and let him heave all of these emotions onto me, ready to catch them and hold them with him. He asked why I was willing to, he couldn’t understand why anyone would want to carry a burden that wasn’t theirs. 

“Because…that’s what keeps us alive. Sharing our burdens so they’re not…as heavy. It doesn't make the pain stop, it doesn’t make everything better again, but it lightens the load you have to carry everyday. That load only gets heavier and heavier with each passing day, but your friends and loved ones are there to take some of it off and help you to carry it. It might not make the most sense right now, but I promise it will. But you have to help us to help yourself. You have to decide who you trust enough to help you carry the weight. You trusted me enough to tell me about Daniel. And I’m grateful you did. But it’s up to you who to give that trust to.”

“The only people I’ve trusted I had to abandon.”

“Well, there’s only one way to break that curse… If you let us. All in your own time. Don’t push it until you’re ready.”

“What if I’m never ready?”

“Then I’m okay with being the one to help you lift.”

*

When I woke up, we were bundled together on my couch, our empty mugs forgotten on the coffee table. I blinked, my arms wrapped around Chris’s sleeping form moving up and down steadily in time with his chest. I was laying on him and I craned my neck up, wanting to watch him sleep just a little longer. 

He looked restless. His eyebrows were scrunched even more than they were when he first came to my door last night, like he was having a nightmare. And with all the thoughts that our conversation last night brought up, I’m sure he was reliving it all in his mind’s eye. I wasn’t sure if I should wake him or not, but he saved me from deciding when I heard him grunt and scrunch his eyes until they opened. He looked around until he remembered where he was then glanced down at me, his tired lips curving upwards. 

“Morning.” I whispered.

“Morning.” He whispered back. 

“How are you feeling? Any different?”

“Not really. But waking up next to you is nice. I could get used to that.”

“You don’t have to say that just because you’re in my apartment, you know. You can tell me if my morning breath is that bad.” He was avoiding the subject and I was going to let him. He’d been through enough for one night.

“It wasn’t that bad last night and it isn’t now either.” A soft chuckle from him and a small weight was lifted from my chest. It was nice to hear him laugh after last night.

“Oh please.” I laughed and threw off the blanket. “I’m going to shower and brush my teeth.” He started rising from the couch too and I spun to throw him a raised brow. “And where are you going?”

He looked like a kid caught trying to run away, but with his body turned toward the direction I was heading, he wasn’t doing that exactly. Instead he froze, looked at me, and slowly sat back down. I rolled my eyes, the smile never leaving my face.

“You can come pick out a toothbrush and then brush your teeth in the kitchen sink.” 

I'll give him whatever distraction he needs to get through this, I told myself. I’ll give him what he needs and then when he’s ready, he’ll come to me.

Won’t he?

From the hallway I hear

“But why can’t I brush my teeth in there?” 

Yeah. He will.

*

“Do you have what I asked for, kid?”

“This has to stop now. This is the last deal I’m doing for you. I’m done.”

He never liked mincing words. What He wanted from His dealers was a quick cut to the chase. He valued directness. He tried doing that, but this was pushing it. He had to keep it quick to get back home. Make his point, sever ties, and get home. That was what he kept repeating to himself as he spoke.

“You think you can get away that easy? You should know better than that. No one escapes The Cartelic. This shit is for life.”

“And what if I made a deal with you?”

*

That first day of repairs was.

“This place is a wreck.”

“Well spotted, Binnie.”

“Hey! I was just saying that this is going to take a while to do, even with the guys your dad hired.” Binnie glanced over at Minho apologetically, looking somehow adorable in his backwards hat and tank top. Minho just looked defeated the whole drive over. Myself, Minho, and Chris all packed into the car this morning to head to our hardware store to grab whatever we ourselves could do until the repairmen showed up, which included picking up the trash and broken things on the floor as well as sweeping up the broken glass everywhere. So we picked up about a billion boxes of trash bags and got to work, the other guys slowly appearing as the day went on. 

Changbin was the last to arrive with Jeongin, walking over the remaining glass to our spot and clutching his bag on his shoulder. 

“We came just in time to do the dirty work.” Changbin said with the fakest smile I had ever seen on anyone, including Hyunjin. Minho threw them both a pair of gloves. 

“So get to dirty working.”

Repairs were slow. So slow. But at least they were happening. 

Chris was over in the corner helping Hyunjin paint in the most adorable set of paint clothes I’d ever seen. Minho told Hyunjin he could paint something on the wall if he was on time for the next month. I didn’t know someone could look cute in clothes with tears and holes in them but there he was in basketball shorts and a white t-shirt. Every now and then, he would move in a way that would allow me to catch a peak of his skin. It made me feel like I was back in the Victorian age when the sight of a woman’s ankles sent men into a tizzy. What is wrong with me… 

I shook my head and turned back to the wall I was putting plaster on with Felix. He didn’t have to help, but that’s just who he was. He wouldn’t miss a chance to help a friend when it really counted. His bright blue hair was tied back in a half up, half down style keeping most of the loose strands out of his face. The few that fell out were perfectly placed as if he pulled them out himself. Life was so unfair sometimes…

Hyunjin and Chris were talking about something I couldn’t quite hear, then Hyunjin’s voice came in clear as day to my ears.

“You know, me and Han weren’t always the glowing twins we are now. We fought in the beginning.”

“Really?” 

“Yeah, we used to be at each other’s throats. He had a lot of pent-up anger when I first met him. But we actually met before we both started working here. We used to dance together in a group before we got this job. He would tell me all these things I needed to work on while he would be messing up just the same as me.”

“Han had pent-up anger?”

“Oh yeah. He would pick fights with almost everyone until he got his shit figured out. It took some serious sit-downs to talk it out. I had to bribe him to come with me.”

“So bribery does work on him.”

“Ha. Yeah, especially when he knows deep down he needs to chill out. We met up at a cafe nearby, Felix’s place actually. We talked about nothing for about five minutes, and then I just laid it all out. I told him that something had to give and it wasn’t going to be me. Then I tried to level with him, said we didn’t have to be best friends but if we were going to work together, then it had to, at least, be cordial. Minho was there, saw our…potential, I guess, and had us come in for interviews. Now here we are.” 

It was true, I remembered Minho telling me the story. He appreciated how they were talking it out outside of the group by themselves. He had just fired his whole restaurant because of the environment they had created amongst themselves and he was over it. He wanted to start from scratch. And he did. And did it well. He already had me on board, he just needed everyone else. 

“Han isn’t like that now. Now he knows that we’re all here for him. We’ve learned how to handle issues with him, if there are any. But there are rarely issues with us all now. We all came to just trust that if one of us has a problem, we’ll come to them with it.”

Chris thought about this a moment as he continued painting. I wondered what he was thinking about. 

*

After a full day of working on repairs with the guys Minho’s father called for the stuff we couldn’t do, Minho ordered food for everyone who worked. That was the real reason Changbin and Seungmin came, I later found out. 

We were all spread out on the floor, now swept and mopped so we could walk around freely. Blankets were spread out for comfort, or so I was told. We were ‘testing out the new cushions’ for the new booths, as Hyunjin had pointed out when he refused to sit on the bare floor. Everyone else was scattered around with plates of various dishes. 

I was watching Chris closer than I would ever admit to out loud. I was just worried about what all he was carrying with him in that head of his while he talked and listened. He was watchful and careful with his expression, not letting anything show about the worries he had come to me with. This troubled me the most. Why is he showing me and not them? I considered this. Was it because he felt safer with me? Did they give him some reason not to be trusted? What had happened between last week at my place and now? What was he thinking about?

“And that’s when I yelled at him that since we fight and yell so much, we might as well be a married couple! The blank stare I got back was so funny, ugh. I wish you all could have seen it.” Seungmin was wistfully staring at Minho now finished recanting the early days when they started planning the new menu together. Minho just shook his head, fighting the smile so as to keep his ‘bored’ exterior but we all knew the truth. He wouldn’t be Minho without Seungmin and he knew that. 

“You were really getting on my nerves and it just shocked me that you would say something like that! I wasn’t expecting it. You kept suggesting we make a pairing menu for the beers and wines. I kept telling you you were crazy and that this is not that kind of place.” He finally cracked a smile to show off those bunny teeth I always made fun of. 

“Well excuse me for trying to bring some class to this place.” Seungmin matched his grin. 

Ever since we got back from our trip, I took every moment I could to really, really look at Minho. How he carried himself, how he interacted with others that he knew and those he did not. To anyone who had just met him, he could seem standoffish, cold even. But when it really came down to it, I think he has the biggest heart of us all. How he met Chris was the truest testament to that; helping a stranger when they needed an out of a bad situation. That was who Minho really was at his base. I hoped he found someone who could truly be his match some day.

“It’s not as bad as that one guy who came in to work for Felix. He was terrible!” Jeongin countered whatever they were talking about while I wondered. 

“Oh no, HE was the worst.” Felix agreed. “He was always late, he was rude to customers, and never restocked before he left. I left him in charge of inventory for the back room one time and I was left without takeout boxes for two weeks! That’s more than half my business!” They all shook their heads, remembering the tales of when Felix would come in early because he had to close because of him. He was a real mess. 

“That shouldn’t happen now, though.” Felix said to his now-empty plate. “I hired one girl who took the interview very seriously. Said she was trying to go to culinary school here and would ‘love the opportunity to get hands-on experience in baked goods’ or something. Beth is her name. You’ll start seeing her around the shop soon since she starts Monday.” 

“That soon? Why didn’t you tell us you were hiring help?” Changbin asked with genuine curiosity. 

“I don’t need to run every business decision by you, do I?” Felix retorted with a smile. “Besides, she sounds like she’ll really be a big help with the actual baking stuff. She’s eager to learn everything. It’ll be a nice change to have someone actually wanting to be there.” 

“It sounds like you’ll have your hands full training someone new. I’m happy for you, Lix. Really. She sounds like she’ll really be a big help.” I hoped my sincerity shone through my words, By the look Felix gave back to me, it did. 

“You guys should come meet her! Or should I bring her here?”

“”Give her a few days to get used to everything. Then let her in on the circus.” Chris piped up. “You guys can be a lot when you’re first meeting someone. Take it from the one who was last to join.” 

“Oh come on, we’re not that bad.” I smirked at him, causing everyone to laugh. Chris shook his head as he laughed and while everyone was occupied with throwing away their trash, he threw me a wink.

*

“Do you want to come over? I made steak last night, it’s pretty good.”

Chris nodded, lowering his head to watch the pavement as we walked to my car. The otherwise abandoned parking lot was only lit by the one streetlamp adjacent, casting a dull glow on the summer night. The pavement must have been more interesting than whatever was going on around him because Chris stared at it the whole time, then rested his head on my headrest and watched the world go by as we drove back to my place. Something had shifted in him since we had left. When we pulled into my place, he made no move to get out. Only unbuckled his seatbelt and stared at his lap. I sat there and let him, not wanting to push him any more than he must have already felt. I knew if I felt exhausted, he had to as well.

We let the sounds of nightfall surround us while we sat. I wasn't sure how long we sat there until he broke the silence. 

“I want to tell them.”

“Tell them what?”

“What I did.” 

“And what did you do?” He looked at me, a flat expression gracing his eyes. Like I should know what he’s talking about. “Ah.” I let that sink in, weighing the words against my inner judgment, debating on giving advice or not. “What brought you to this conclusion?”

“These past few weeks…Mixed with the past couple months with all of them, I think I can trust them. I don’t want to tell them, but I feel like I need to. They deserve to know.”

“Why do they need to know? You don’t even know if it was them, Chris-”

“But I do know. I just know. Who else could it have been?”

“Anyone. You’re not the only one with enemies. Maybe the only with with a drug lord on that list but…” It was a poke to try to get him to laugh. He didn't. “What happened? What made you change your mind?”

He didn’t answer. He chose that moment to unlock his door and get out of the car. I had no choice but to follow him up the yard and up the steps. In the stairwell upwards, he whispered quietly so it wouldn’t bounce off the walls.

“I don’t know. I just…trust them. Like I trust you.” He stood to the side to let me unlock the door, our arms brushing while I dug for my keys. Even with the heavy subject matter we were discussing and implying between the lines, that jolt of electricity still ran down my spine. I both hated and loved that our chemistry could withstand it all. 

“I’m honored to have gained your trust so quickly. Are you sure you want to tell them?” As his friend, I wanted him to be sure he was confident in his decision. I knew it would kill him if he came to regret it later on, but I wasn’t sure he would. I trusted those boys with my life and then some, and if Chris had come to the same conclusion on his own, that meant even more. 

“I do. I will soon.” He came in after me and settled on the couch, just like he had the first night he came to me after the incident. But his features were much more…peaceful this time. He looked rested, like the weight had lifted when he had decided he would tell them. Instead of simply hovering over the fence between fainting from stress and the verge of tears, he seemed relaxed. Likely because of his decision for peace over secrets, but I chose to believe it was because he felt better here, in my house. 

“Good. Now help me with the steaks, yeah?”

*

“Your deal is no good here. Stupid to think that a child would have something I would want.”

“But what if I do?”

“And what could you possibly want in return, kid?”

“I want my father back.”

The bigger man laughed, his stomach jiggling as he did. “I forgot just how young you are. Are you still waiting for your father to come home? Pathetic.”

His hands shook as he clenched them, trying to keep his grip on his emotions. He knew that if He caught a whiff of any, he would be finished. So he reigned in his anger, centering himself to retort back.

“I expect nothing. Name your price and it’s done.”

“Your father was worth nothing, just like you. I want for nothing, unlike you. Your father will remain where we put him; six feet under.”

*

We laid in my bed, side by side, Chris’s fingers playing with mine and me, just watching while the light from the TV bounced around the room. Each time he glanced over to my face, I switched from watching his fingers back to the TV, fighting the grin dying to take over. I had to bite the inside of my cheek in order to do so, and he pretended not to notice when he went back to it. He would run the pads of his thumbs over my nails then down the length of my fingers, diving between them and then back up to the next. And he would start back over in the opposite direction, just resting and letting his mind wander wherever it was going. 

I was barely paying attention to the game show he had put on while I was in the bathroom, distracted by the mindless but intentional sensory placater that was happening. It was as much for me as it was for him, not thinking about the days ahead or behind. Living for the now, as we had been advised to do. Remembering the past would only bring to the surface all of the pain that rested there. He could leave it there if he wanted or choose to lighten the load, give some to me until he was ready to share it with someone else. Whatever he was ready for, whenever. 

He brought my hand to his lips and kissed the back of it. “Tell me what you thought when you first met me. What was going through your mind when you saw me walk in through those glass doors?” I finally moved my head to look at him straight on and saw curiosity staring back at me with a glimmer of something else simmering just below.

“What brings this on? Anything specific you want to hear?” He shook his head. 

“No. I just want to hear your honest thoughts. Have to make sure I make a good impression.” I snorted.

“Yeah, okay.” I said sarcastically and paused to think back. “Obviously, you were shrouded in mystery. The way Minho brought you in was super weird. I don't know why he had to bring us all in first to ‘make sure we were on the same page’ before he brought you out to the front.”

“He was giving me a tour of the back rooms when you all arrived. He went out to see what all the ruckus was and he came back and said it was just you guys. Said that we should all meet before dinner service that night.”

“Yeah, Minho likes his people to work well together. Which, I say we’re doing a fantastic job so far.” I winked at him. “I remember thinking that you were going to shake things up from what we had known. That you were either going to be the best thing that would happen to us or…” I didn’t want to say ‘the worst’. I wanted to save his worries at least a little, those that I could control. “And I thought you were cute in your little backwards baseball hat. You had these little hairs sticking out in the back and they kinda looked like a little duck’s tail.”

“A duck’s tail?”

“Yeah. The way it flips upwards, it's adorable.”

“Oh I’m adorable, am I?” 

“I didn’t say that.” I said quickly.

“Yes you did.” He said just as fast. 

“Oh stop it. Don’t let it go to your head. You were a right little shit straight afterwards.”

“It’s because you caught me off guard! I didn't know what to do so I resorted to default settings.” 

“What does that mean, I ‘caught you off guard’? What about me caught you off guard?” Disbelief coated my words, not thinking that anything about me could be catching anyone off guard.

“Everything. Everything about you.” I scoffed and rolled my eyes. “No, really! What, you don’t believe me?”

“I just don’t believe I’m that breathtaking.” I said the last word in a breathy, dramatic voice. “It’s not that I don’t believe you, it’s that I don’t think I’m capable of that kind of power.” I watched the TV for the next few minutes, feeling how heavy he was staring at me. I refused to look his way, not knowing what I might find if I dared sneak a peek. The man on the TV was doing something with his leg to make the audience laugh, but I was only half listening. But the longer Chris was quiet, the more the anticipation built. And it finally broke when Chris lifted his fingers to my chin and turned me to look at him again. 

“I crumble to dust when you say my name. What makes you think you have no power?”

Everything in the room went quiet. There was only Chris. Chris and the way he was looking at me like I had done him a great kindness in knowing him. Chris and the smell of him enveloping me like a long awaited hug that my soul had been calling out for. He understood what I didn’t know I had been longing for. 

Our eyes locked and that was all he needed. 

The moments before our lips met were the longest and the shortest of my life. And when he came knocking on my door, he found it already open for him, his name carved like he owned it.

*

“Minho, why are we here at the butt crack of dawn? Some of us like to sleep at this hour and do not appreciate being called to appear at our job before the sun officially rises.” Hyunjin ran his hand through his hair and rubbed his eyes. Felix jumped through the small crowd of friends and threw his arms around Hyunjin’s neck.

“Felix, if you don’t get off me, I’m going to scream into your eardrums so loud that you will need to have surgery to repair BOTH of them.” 

“Hyunjin, you’re so dramatic.”

“Yeah, how could you yell at our baby Felix like that?” Han widened his eyes to round them, making them shine like big round saucers while he threw his arms around Felix’s dejected frame. Felix’s pout accentuated his lips, making the pucker more than usual and making it impossible to say anything negative about or to. Well, more so than usual. Felix crossed his arms. 

Minho appeared around the corner of the restaurant waving his arms in our direction. 

“Over this way!” He shouted and disappeared again behind the back, forcing the rest of us to follow him. Changbin led the way, grumbling about not being told beforehand about anything for the past week. We had all spent most of the time taking well deserved breaks, helping with repairs where we could and finding odd jobs to do in the meantime while Minho’s father arranged for everything to be back in working order.

When we found Minho by the back door, the corners of his mouth were twitching something horrible, which could only mean one of two things. Either we were in for it or…

“It’s finally done. The whole thing, we’re all finished. We are officially open starting tomorrow!” He let his grin break loose to be met with cheers from the rest of the group. Whoops and hollers from us all only deepened his sense of pride and he waved his arms downwards to calm the hollers of joy. “I wanted to be the first to take a look at it, but it didn’t feel right without you guys since it felt like we did all this together, you know? I know I wouldn’t be here without you guys and-”

“Minho, can we have this moment when we get inside? The anticipation is KILLING me!” Han loved to ruin Minho’s fun when he was being too serious. It kept Minho from falling into pieces sometimes, not that he would ever admit that to anyone. 

“Fine! Fine, I guess you’ll never know. Go in, you heathens! And don’t touch anything!” Han broke into a run and burst open the back door, Chris right behind him. Felix and I hung back to watch and take in the moment, fully take in the work and everything that had been put into the place, both recently and over the years. And when we walked through that back door into the newly furnished kitchen, our words left us.

The kitchen was brand new, silver chrome coating the counters and new island in the middle for faster service with touches of bronze and copper placements everywhere. . The normal ventilation was now blocked off to where it wasn’t totally visible from directly underneath. The pots and pans now hung from hooks everywhere you looked, all crisp and waiting to be used. The stovetops, which Seungmin was now marveling at, were crystal clean and calling to him, or so he said. The ovens, three in total, were spread just far enough to prevent overcrowding at one, but not so far that you had to go too far to go from one to the other. And all of the new utensils were spread everywhere, never having to go too far for what you needed. It was gorgeous, a dream really. You could tell it was plucked straight from Minho’s dreams. 

“Min, it’s gorgeous.” I whispered to him, but he wasn’t listening. No, he was staring in wonder at his completed masterpiece. He had picked the pieces of what he thought would look best, but the designer had filled in the rest. Minho was blinking rapidly with a blank expression like he did when he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. I couldn’t help the smile that appeared when I saw him like that. It happened so rarely. “I’ll leave you to it.” I whispered to him and made to leave, but he grabbed my arm. 

“Stay. Just for a second.” He said as he continued to look around. He stood rooted to the spot, just watching everything and everyone’s reactions to it all. “Look. Look what we’ve done.”

“What you’ve done.” I corrected him. “This was all you, Minho. So take your time, take it all in. You deserve it.” I gave his hand a reassuring squeeze and waited for him to squeeze back. But he didn’t. Instead he let go abruptly to show Seugmin the pantry for dry goods. I took that as my ‘ok’ to leave them. 

They had kept the swinging doors leading to the dining room like they were, just buying newer ones and new hinges. Why fix what wasn’t broken? Only now, they sported red velvet cushioning type of dressing, decorated with gold round accents while keeping the round windows for peeping. And what awaited me outside those doors took my breath away for the second time that morning. 

The dining room looked the same, and yet different at the same time. The window-walls had been replaced with the same, but stronger plexiglass of a sort, or so I overheard from Changbin with his loud voice. The booths were matching the red velvet doors along with their gold accents, giving them the new and fancier feel. The floor had been redone in a black sort of non-slip coating and the new bar had been elongated. They had replaced the mirror backing of the liquor shelves (at my request, purely for selfish and self-serving reasons) and they were back to their fully-stocked state and begging to be used. The shelf they stood on top of was fully ready for a bunch of any kind, flutes of all shapes and sizes next to every type of beer glass I could think of. I went around to look at what had been chosen just to find more surprises waiting for me behind the bar. 

I never thought I would be the type of girl that would be excited by cups, but these were too pretty to ignore. The copper sinks were deeper than the last ones, and the shakers were the same copper material as the sinks. I couldn’t wait to add my glittery one to the mix.

Chris was across the room looking at the new booths when I called him over to look at what they had replaced our stuff with. He ran over, careful of Changbin and Hyunjin looking at the new bouncer/ host stand. When he arrived at my spot, his mouth fell open, exploring all of the new nooks and crannies we had all to ourselves. He even stuck his head under the bar.

“What are you doing? Are you looking for money the restoration crew might have left?” I shoved his shoulder playfully. 

No, stupid. I’m looking for a place to write our names.” I cocked my head at the idea, considering what could go wrong if we did. Considering I’d be here forever, what was the worst that could happen?

“Let me go find a marker.”

“Got one right here.” Chris whipped out a Sharpie from his jean pocket and crouched down low. If anyone looked over here, they would only see me. 

“Do you just carry around markers with you everywhere?” I laughed as I crouched with him, taking the marker from him.

“Nah,” he responded. “Minho told me we were coming here. I had this idea last night.” I held the marker above the short wall, unwilling to write my actual initials. Hm. 

“Here, why don’t we write ‘S’ for Sparkles and ‘P’ for Puck?”

“Wow, you really did think about this.” I had to laugh again as I wrote the two letters. “People might know what ‘S’ is but will they know what ‘P’ is?”

“Doesn’t matter. At least you do. That way, when you look at it, you’ll know it’s me.” 

“I like that.” After finishing the job, I chanced the look back to him, where I caught a glimpse of what looked like sadness at the marked wall. He let out a deep sigh, which I ignored. I wanted him to have the moment to himself. 

A second later, Han barreled into the waist-level bar, marveling at the new shelves. “Oh!” He exclaimed when he spotted us. “What’re you guys doing down there?”

“Nothing!” I responded and sprouted upwards. 

“Oh okay. Have you guys seen the new bathrooms? The sinks are unbelievable!” And then he was off again.

“He has too much energy for how early it is.”

“And he’s the hardest to wake up. Can you believe that?” We shook our heads together and started to follow Han until Seungmin came in through the doors.

“Who wants to break in the new kitcheeeeennnnnn?!”

*

The answer was everyone. Everyone wanted to break in the new kitchen. And in various ways.

It took a lot of convincing from Han for Minho to let him try and use the new fryers while Hyunjin was all about the new stovetops. Seungmin was constantly peering over his shoulder because he ‘couldn’t trust him with anything new’, which Hyunjin noticed and purposely tried burning multiple pans. 

“Are you trying to fuck us before we even officially open?”

“Well, Seungmin, I didn’t know how to tell you but-” He started puckering his lips and following the younger around the kitchen. “Seungmin, come back!”

“No! No!” Seugmin’s screams could be heard from every corner of the building, yet no one thought twice about it nor went over to help, leaving him to fend for himself. 

Minho had his own section of the new flat top and was chopping away at something and adding bits and pieces of everything he could find that he thought would be good. And it wasn’t long before there was a buffet spread of freshly made food on the new bar next to Chris and I making breakfast drinks. Next thing we all knew, plates were scraped clean again and the new mimosa glasses were emptied. All nine of us sat around, testing out the new comfortability of the new booths but really, we were just sitting around, some of us paired off and others just loudly talking about random nonsense. Chris and I sat together again, his arm around me while our conversations were going in opposite directions. When he placed his arm around me at first, none of the other guys reacted really. I thought none of them had noticed until Hyunjin gave me a look in response, ‘girl we already knew’.

“It took a lot for me to trust them, actually. I’m not really a person who trusts easily so it took a while for me to open up with them. Changbin was the first one who took it upon himself to make sure I felt comfortable enough to talk about myself and my life.”

“What did he do that made you trust him? What were the signs you were looking for?”

“I’m not really sure exactly. But the more time I spent with them, the more I found myself telling them. Like it was spilling out of me. Like it had been waiting to come out. I guess…” Innie paused, searching for answers on the new wooden tables. “I guess the more I saw that he cared about what I had to say, the more inclined I was to tell him. And I think I was testing him at first to see what his reactions would be. When he didn’t run or laugh at how ridiculous it was, I think that was when it started happening.”

Chris rumpled his hair, causing Jeongin to shrink into himself and try to get away from any signs of affection, as he usually did. “Sparkles was right, you are too smart for your age.”

Jeongin’s signature laugh bounced off the freshly painted walls. 

Minho stood from his bar stool and quieted everyone with his hands. 

“Now that we’ve all been stuffed beyond our means, I have the great pleasure of telling you all that we are back in business tomorrow night so I hope you don’t have any plans.”

“But Jeongin was supposed to take me shopping!” Felix pouted back into his chair, sulking while Jeongin’s breathy laugh filled our eardrums. Minho just shrugged.

“Sorry not sorry. Anyways, front of house, come back at around six to check out the new menu items. Back of house, including Han and Hyunjin, you have to stay. We have to teach you. Trust me, we’re not looking forward to it either.”

“Hey now, I need one of the twins with me.” 

“Fine, pick one.” Minho moaned in mild frustration.

“I’m going!” Han was faster, and sped-walked quickly to my side before Minho could object. Minho rolled his eyes, but led the way to the kitchen with the others. 

Grumbles filled the air while those of us who were dismissed filed out. Chris held onto my hand until he was forced to let go by Minho.

“Bro, let’s go! You got dishes to do. You guys can make out later.” To which all of the boys groaned, Han the loudest. 

“Eeewwww, gross!”

“I’ll see you later then.” Chris whispered in my ear then kissed my cheek, leaving a literal spark where his lips had been. I couldn’t wipe the smile off my face as I headed to the bar. 

“The rest of you, follow me. I have some new cocktail recipes I wanna try.” I practically skipped over the rest of the way, Changbin, Jeongin, Han, and Felix in tow. 

When we arrived at the bar, I was immediately bombarded with questions. 

“How long have you guys been together?”

“When did that happen?”

“Did you guys know about this? Felix was the only one who didn’t have questions. Instead he just watched the others and held in that deep laughter of his. While they spewed their questions, I gathered the ingredients I needed and started pouring them into the new shakers. They continued while I poured ice and started shaking, yelling even louder so they could hear each other over the rattling ice. They didn’t stop until I poured my creation into the glass I had selected. I opened my mouth to indicate that I was ready to talk, and they quieted down their hushed voices. 

“I call this one ‘I’m Not Answering Your Questions So Don��t Even Ask’.” They went quiet and looked for the straws. 

“It was just a question, geez.”

“Yeah, we just wanted to know what was going on.” They sipped all at once, making room for each other so they looked like one of those pictures from the 50s, all drinking a milkshake together. It was adorable.

“I like this one! What is it?” As I explained it to him and made more for them to try, I couldn’t help but think about what was going on in the kitchen. The thought that Chris wanted to tell the crew about his past hadn’t left me, but I didn’t know much more than that. Would he do it today, before our first dinner service in the new place? Or would he wait until after, letting everyone focus on the next 24 hours for themselves? 

Felix’s voice broke me of my thoughts. “So what do you think?”

“Huh? I’m sorry, Lix, I have no idea what you just said.”

“Yeah I thought so.” He mocked, then continued. “I asked you what you thought about me inviting Beth to try the new stuff? You know, get another opinion in here.”

“Yeah, that’s okay. I’m always open to new opinions.”

Half an hour later she strolled in, hair up in a long ponytail with some casual jeans and a black t-shirt clinging to the curves of her upper half in all the right places. She was definitely pretty, and she walked with her head high, shoulders back and confident for someone who was walking into a room full of people she didn’t know. When she approached, she didn’t say much beyond the simple introduction and polite hellos, but the confident air didn’t go away. It reminded me of someone…

Minho started to carry plates to the bar from the kitchen, each with their own flair that fit the dishes laden with different sauces of all colors, vegetables and various proteins. He didn’t even notice that we had an extra person among us, let alone another woman. It was only when he was counting heads to see how many forks we needed to test the new plates, that I saw him freeze and start the blinking. I watched the confusion take over until he found the culprit of the extra number and leaned over the bar towards me and waved me over. 

“Who’s the new girl?” 

“Felix’s new girl down at the bakery. Beth.” Minho nodded, this whole exchange never taking his eyes off of her. It seemed like he couldn’t, and I wasn’t sure he was really trying. She was paying no attention to him, looking over all of the plates he had brought over. 

“Oh.” He mumbled, and continued watching her look over his plates. 

“Minho?” I asked, staring at him. “Minho?” I asked a little louder. It was like he was in a trance, watching her and the way she wafted the smells coming from the food, picking apart what she thought was giving each smell and mentioning it to Felix, who nodded and listened. I didn’t want to tear him from whatever moment he was having, but Hyunjin had now come with more plates. He spotted Minho standing frozen in place like a statue and after putting his own plates down next to the ones that were already there, he snapped his fingers right in Minho’s face, waking him. 

“Hey! We still got plates back there. Let’s gooooo.” He singsoned and then traipsed back through the revolving doors without checking if Minho was behind him. Minho blinked furiously again and looked around like he forgot where he was. His eyes finally landed on my smug face, imitating when Spongebob caught Squidward eating a Krabby Patty after he swore he didn’t like them.. 

“Shut up.” He turned on his heel and ran back to the kitchen and I didn’t miss the middle finger he threw me while I cackled. “Shut up!”

“What was that about?” The woman herself had approached me to ask the question, and since she hadn’t said much to anyone other than Felix, I was surprised.

“Oh, uhm, nothing. He’s just a little odd, that’s all.”

“Was it just me or was he staring at me?”

“Like I said, he means well. That’s Minho, this is kinda his place. He’s the head chef back there.”

“Head chef?” Her interest seemed piqued at the mention of his position. “Hm.” was all she said before she took Felix’s arm and walked away. She pulled him into a corner and started whispering to him. Felix couldn’t help but laugh and whenever he laughed, she slapped him on the arm. It seemed like old friends having a discussion about something important, and Felix was mocking her for it. It was nice to see Felix with another friend.

The rest of the itchen boys brought out the rest of the plates at the same time while those of us at the bar finished making the new cocktail menu. It was a tasting menu for the ages. Food was as far as the eye could see and the glasses sat behind them, everything ready to be tasted. Everyone gathered around the bar for the second time that day, this time for business rather than family time. 

“It was nice not to have to pay for food today.” Hyujin said as he poised his fork over the glazed pork dish in front of him. “I don’t like cooking by myself anyways.” He brought his fork to his mouth and scrunched his face together, like he was in pain.

“Hyunjin, why do you always look like you’re in pain when you eat?ou scrunch your face like this.” I did my best impersonation of the face he just made, hoping it was as accurate as it felt. 

“I do not do that!”

“You do. It’s okay, it’s cute.” Changbin said as he came up behind him with his fork poised to eat. Hyunjin’s indignation reached all the way down the bar, hitting everyone but Minho, who was reading something on his phone. He was a lonely island in the sea of laughter around him, out of place in the rambunctious fun happening. 

“Yah!” He called out, silencing the room around him. His volume was louder than he needed, signaling to the group that the seriousness of what he had to say was trumping whatever was happening. He held up his phone, reading from it. “‘The cops pulled the cameras from that day around the area and found the car as it was leaving. They identified it as belonging to that dishwasher that ran out on you a few months ago. They caught him and he confessed to everything. I’m making sure they press every charge they can AND paying back every penny we spent on repairs.’” There was a collective sigh of relief from the small crowd, but Chris just looked even more puzzled. He found my gaze and left his place beside Changbin to find me.

“Well, that’s a relief. Now you don’t have to tell them what you suspected about those guys. It’s not true.” He didn’t look any more pleased from that fact.

“Yeah, but…” He looked around again. “Something still doesn’t feel right.” 

“Why? What do you mean?” Puzzled, he tucked his bottom lip into his teeth.

“I don’t know… But I can’t shake the feeling.” 

“Well, we’ll just keep an eye on it, okay? The cops have him and until we have some hard evidence to believe that he’s not the guy who did this, we have to take them at their word for it. It’s not like we can do anything about it anyways.” 

“Maybe I just don’t want to believe it’s that easy.”

“Maybe you’re not used to the bad guys getting caught.” I replied without thinking. Scared, I turned to face him, an apology on my lips and ready to be spilled, but he wasn’t offended. No, he was nodding along, as if to say ‘fair point’.

“So now what do we do?” Jeongin asked innocently. 

“Now,” Minho replied. “We kill tomorrow’s dinner service.”

*

And kill it we did.

Minho’s father had a banner put up over the front door stating our ‘Grand Reopening’ and the people were lining up at the door, ready for us. Floods of compliments on the new decor from the regulars and the new customers excitedly announcing that it was their first time there. The new upscale makeover had drawn in the crowd Minho had always wanted and his reputation for high standards had been spread across town. It followed him when he went out that day to Felix’s cafe. 

“He said he needed help today so I just stopped by for a minute.”

Felix: Bullshit. I never asked him for help. He didn’t leave Beth’s side the whole 10 minutes he was here before I kicked him out. 

The new dishes had gone over so well that Minho decided to keep them all instead of just keeping them for the reopening. His plan was to see what sold well and boot the rest but everything sold so well that he had to keep it all. He didn’t make back all of the money he had been estimated to lose since closing the doors, but he predicted that he was well on his way. 

Chris told them all the story of his past when the night was over, saying he had been scared to tell them because he was convinced he was right. 

“The goons I used to work with are scary as shit. I didn’t want to put you guys in any more danger than you already were just by being near me. So it was better that you didn’t know.”

“But you could’ve told us, Chris. You didn’t have to be scared, we would’ve understood.” Changbin comforted him from the furthest seat. “We still wouldn’t have blamed you because it was never your fault. You did what you could.”

Felix just got up and hugged Chris, who accepted it right away. With Felix, there was no other way other than to accept it straight away. “I’m sorry for your loss, Chris. That guilt must still be weighing on you.”

“It still does.” I reached for his hand which he took gratefully. Han was quiet for what felt like the first time in his life, and Minho watched the others around him, having already known the story. 

“Thank you for telling us.” Seungmin said quietly, unsure of what to do next. He wasn’t one for physical comfort, but that job was already occupied by Felix. So he made sure that Chris knew that whatever he might need, Seungmin was there. 

“It’s weird. Sometimes you guys remind me of him. Little things you guys do are things that he used to do. I missed having little brothers.” 

And then was when Han broke out into a very dramatic wail. “CHRIIIISSSSSSS.” And he sprung up straight into Chris’ arms to cry on his shoulder. And the rest of the group rallied around them, dragging me along with them into the only group hug I had seen Minho not hate. 

I was feeling good about it all until they all eventually left, barely cleaning on their way out. I drew the short straw yet again so guess who was stuck cleaning?

“I’ll stay and help, don’t worry.” What a man, my boyfriend.

That word was still unfamiliar on my tongue in this context. Unfamiliar, but a rush of adrenaline still ran through me with every use. And I was tryng my best to pretend that it was totally fine that he was standing so close to me, washing the glasses behind the bar. He bumped my hip with his to break the comfortable silence we had fallen into in the empty restaurant. 

“What’re you thinking about?”

“I’m just really proud of you. For opening up about Daniel, coming clean when you didn’t have to. You’ve opened up about something very traumatic for you and I’m just proud that you trusted all of us enough to tell us.” Chris got quiet, the glint of something like sadness taking over his eyes again. “What?”

“Nothing.” He cast the sad smile downwards on the beer glass he was washing. 

“Hey.” I bumped his hip back. He glanced back at me. “I really like you.”

He retracted that sadness and giggled, the one that I felt in my soul. 

“I really like you too.” He looked at me like he wanted to say more, but didn’t. He just kissed me instead. 

After a night’s rest and a coffee from Felix’s cafe in hand, I took out my keys to unlock the front door. I was looking forward to having a moment to myself in the new space after the success of last night, and taking a look around for my own sake was high on my to-do list. Just to sit by myself in a booth and admire the work we had done to get here with a coffee in my hand was just what I wanted. So I waltzed in through the glass doors and locked the door behind me. I went over to the freshly cleaned bar to put down my bag to find a folded piece of paper laying innocently on the counter.

My Sparkle,

I hope by the time you read this, I’ll be home again. I couldn’t tell you this to your face or else I would crumble again. Because I know for you, I would Stay if you asked me to. 

But I have to go home to fix the mess I made. I never told you because I was scared of what they would say, but I reached out to my sister. Her reaction was the final push I needed to at least try. I think I would miss you too much to be gone for good. But I know it’s going to take a while, so I can’t say when I’ll be back.

Being here with you these past few months has given me so much that I will never be able to repay you for, so I won’t try to. But I know I have a lot to thank you for. The only thing I can do is appreciate what you’ve given me and hope to give it back when I come back home to you. 

I don’t want to keep carrying this when I don’t have to and it’s not fair for you to help me  when you don’t deserve it. I’ve been running for too long. I don’t want to run anymore. My only regret is not telling you the one truth that I’ve known all this time. 

I love you

I love you

I love you

-Puck 

*

“You’re still going?”

“Yeah. I have to. Hannah will kill me if I don’t go.”

“You don’t have to. She’s going to break down my door once she reads that.”

“I know. And I’m sorry for what you’re going to have to deal with. But I can’t tell her myself. I won’t go if I do.”

Silence.

“You love her that much?”

“With everything I have.”

fin.

[bluecatwriter]

How Good And Thoughtful

Ah, thank you for requesting this one, anon! I'm very fond of it.

"How Good and Thoughtful": "Earlier today, Jack Seward had to help kill Lucy's vampire, and now he's in the company of Mina Harker, working together to transcribe and assemble their diaries. He never expected to feel this close to someone he just met, and he's not quite sure how to handle his strong affection for his new friend."

-I put the quote from the book that inspired me at the beginning of the fic, with Mina narrating how Jack helped her get a typewriter set up so she could transcribe his diary. "How good and thoughtful he is; the world seems full of good men— even if there are monsters in it."

-Also I wanted to write this because Mina and Jack have, like, the best meeting of the whole book. They're in a romance novel except Mina's already in love with someone else. They meet at the train station, make extremely awkward small talk, Jack starts blushing furiously, he determines that he needs to keep information from her but five minutes later hands over his entire wax cylinder collection and then they read each other's diaries. I am obsessed with them!

-I'm also always gnawing away on the whole set-up of Jack and Mina spending the evening together alone in his study: Jonathan is halfway across the country tracking down boxes, and meanwhile Mina is having a sleepover with a handsome, well-bred young man whom Lucy thought she might be into— and no one, either in the story or in the way the narrative is presented, bats an eye! As someone who was raised in a very conservative environment where we were taught, explicitly or implicitly, "It is morally wrong for a woman to be alone with a man unless they're married— and this is the way it's always been!", this makes me unreasonably happy. 

-The first part of the fic is mostly logistics, putting dialogue to the summarized part of the book. I wanted to show that Jack is mostly in business mode here, trying to be helpful in any way he can.

-The canon image of Jack sitting with a book while she transcribed so she wouldn't be alone is very sweet to me, so I put it in the fic, too. Meanwhile, Jack, who is bone-tired under the best circumstances but also has been getting even less sleep (and more Horrors) than usual, begins to fantasize a bit about having Mina as a wife. As with Jack's attraction to Lucy, I think you can read his obvious rapport with Mina as being any sort of attraction— sexual, romantic, platonic— although in this fic, them getting along gets mentally slotted into the literally only category he has for a close female relationship, which is "wife."

-I wanted to make it clear that Jack is not being a creeper here, but is channeling his longing for companionship into the want for a wife (and trying very hard not to think too much about it).

-Of course Jack knows Mina is already married, and he's very excited to meet her (surely hunky) husband! I had fun imagining what kind of "strong young manhood" Jack might construct after reading Jonathan's diary. Anyone with such an iron nerve must be the kind of guy who could throw him against a wall, right…?

-Mina having to stop and stretch her hands after typing is my concern for her ligaments during all this typing she does during the novel (and shows up in some other fics, too). My girl is gonna get carpal tunnel if she doesn't stretch!

-I knew I wanted to have them touch in this scene, and figured that him rushing to help with a medical need (proper stretching technique for her hands) would be a good way to do that. I come from a family where we often give each other backrubs or foot-rubs or hand-rubs, so I have familial associations with it, but I liked that it could also be a little charged here just because massaging someone else's hands can feel pretty intimate.

-I diverged a bit from canon by having them stay up together reading through the newspapers; if I remember correctly, Mina does it by herself in the book. I liked how domestic the image was of them poring over newspapers together and reading each other snippets (sort of like how my spouse and I will scroll through our phones side by side, pausing only to show each other memes).

-Since the book has a theme of people falling asleep, I decided to have Mina doze off here (couldn't be me— I cannot sleep in a chair), which of course makes Jack feel a whole lot of other things. He's doing his best not to pine, but man.

-When he wakes Mina up and she says she's going to bed, I was very seriously tempted to veer from my original idea and let them just make out. But I decided to keep my original plan for a couple reasons: even if Mina said it was okay with Jonathan, it didn't feel believable to me for Mina and Jonathan to have discussed polyamory at this point so early in their marriage; it would've made the thing feel more like an AU rather than my vaguely-canon writings that I've compiled. Plus, I wanted the focus to be on their connection, not have the scene just be a jumping-off point for a romance (even though I might write something like the latter at some point). So I reined Jack in and kept going from there.

-I like the little conversation that Mina and Jack have here— it's so earnest and open. I was trying to convey the feeling when you meet someone and you just click and it feels like you've been friends all your life.

-I settled on Jack giving her a cheek kiss, which is still a very bold move for him but more restrained than a dubious makeout session. And then of course he feels terrible for it… but Mina understands and gives him a kiss back. One kiss is enough to make Jack crumple like a cheap paper napkin, so it's probably good I was restrained, anyway. ;) His immediate desire to "fall at her feet and sob into the folds of her skirt" was inspired by Jonathan doing just that later on in the story.

-I figured after all that, Jack needed Floor Time; I just see him as a guy who lies down a lot when he's trying to process things. (In the play I'm working on, his first entry is narrating while he's lying on his back on the floor.)

-A huge number of my fics end with the viewpoint character getting a good night's sleep. This is because 1) sleep is a big running theme in Dracula, and, more importantly, 2) I love sleeping and I want everyone else to get a good night's sleep, too. ;)

Thanks again for the ask!

(Ask game here)

[creoterative]

Mateo or Yun chuan hcs

If dating someone

I imagine their second bounties are very telling

🥺

I. Am. So sorry.

This has been sitting in my requestbox since last week I think and I absolutely forgot about it, shame on me, really.

I'll go with the Lore again and make up my mind about it, because, I gotta admit it... I don't own them either... I can only read what is given to me on the Wiki or in animations... sorry :>

Again, I apologize for taking so long, but I've done my research and heeeere it comes - I'm gonna do both xD :

Mateo

It literally says in his Lore "The burning ember Mateo left behind must have melted the icy walls surrounding someone's heart."

So I'm gonna go with that, it sounds very symbolic and kinda nice for someone as ruthless and arrogant as him.

Mateo isn't coldhearted, but... he's harsh. Even finding someone to date him would be pretty challenging. I imagine him being quite picky with the company he keeps.

From what I've seen of him so far, the only thing he really wants to be, is a hero. The way to achieve this goal though, that, uhm... isn't important at all. He'll make sacrifices if needed, not if they are morally correct, so I think that's the same approach he'll have in a relationship.

Finding someone to date is hard enough with his character and story, but if he does, his affection is gonna be like an exponential curve. It starts of very slow, very low, just little sparks and turns into a flickering flame until it suddenly explodes and becomes a blazing tornado.

Mateo seems like the kind of guy to take his time with relationships and dating in general. He's slow, not wanting to pick the wrong person, but it takes one impactful event and he's head over heels.

He might become a bit... clingy after that.

In an affectionate way, but... it can be annoying from time to time.

It takes a lot for him to open up though since too many people tried to humiliate him in the past and of course he doesn't want that to happen again.

As mentioned before, it'll take time. But after the ice is melted, well, his significant other will have a friend for life and the force of fire and storms by their side.

He doesn't like physical affection though. I imagine him being more of a praise guy. If the significant other is talking to him, about him, with him, that's all he needs. He doesn't need long cuddles or movie nights or walks in the park. Talking to them is what he gets his energy from in the end and affection through words is what he seeks. In the end, he'll learn to return the favor.

Edit:

"You're safe with me" is said a lot. Does it work? Not really. Does he mean it? No, he knows quite well that his significant other won't be 'safe' with him at all. What he actually means is "Danger follows me everywhere, but I'm here to protect you at all cost".

Fancy is a word that might describe him, but that's a word to describe most of the characters in Dislyte. Fancy restaurants, fancy cars, fancy gifts for the loved one. But when it comes to the actual romance, he's... or he seems to be rather easy-going. Traditional. Stargazing, good food, talking... that's more his style.

Don't give him too much credit, the man will become even more arrogant than before and keep a personal record of the times he's been able to get a "You're so cool" out of his significant other.

Yun Chuan

Oh he's soft.

Dumb, but soft.

Well, not dumb dumb, more in an innocent way, he's just... uhm... slow. When it comes to dating.

I imagine him being quite determined and if he's set a goal for himself, he doesn't stray from his path, so dating is just the same.

Yun Chuan is sweet though and can be a real gentleman if he wants to, but on the other hand, if he finds a significant other, he expects them to train just as hard as he does.

That is more for their own protection than because he's demanding the same determination. He knows very well that he can't be around at all times, so he wants his love to be strong.

I think he's definitely more cuddly than Mateo, while also being more on the distant side. He won't cuddle when other people are around, but when they're alone in a room, yeah, then he's all in.

Depends on the phase of the relationship of course, because I imagine him being a bit shy at the beginning, not knowing what he can and can't tell the other person.

Much like Mateo, he is loyal to the end, but other than Mateo, betrayal doesn't affect him as much. He's kinda used to it and somehow even expects it, so while there isn't a constant thought in his back, telling him that they might betray him one day, he knows that it COULD happen. And all he wants to be is prepared.

Lots of talking about and playing with his little guard dog.

Aaalright, that's it, I hope ya like it ^^

Have a nice day and stay safe!

[aita-blorbos]

AITA for crossing someone's boundaries?

He also died.

I, 34m, have been in an unpleasant place in my life as of late, which is ENTIRELY the fault of someone we'll call M (50s-60s?m).

Now, I've been managing. Barely. I kept having to restart everything, and every time it happened, I was met with M taunting me and giving me non-advice!

Anyways. One day I'm going out to try and find food, okay? And I hear a mechanical noise. I look, and it's this funky looking... door... thing. And I think 'oh, no, I'm not getting fooled by THAT again', so I go to inspect it. And I get dragged off! What's that about?

M greets me when I wake up AGAIN. Seriously, I hate that guy. Says something about thinking I would have "learned my lesson". Yeah, right. Anyways, it turned out I could collect items that could help me escape from this new place! It ended up dragging me off to another place, and M was mad. You'd thought I was the one who tricked him!

Anyways. I go through the whole thing a few times, collect components and get dragged off by shadow hands, and he keeps getting PISSED.

After about four tries of this, I wake up somewhere, and he's offering a truce. A truce! He sets me up with a campsite and says I could stay and live here for as long as I need. Food! Gold! Pigs! And you know, I almost considered it.

But then I remember that M tricked me into getting kidnapped by him (long story, radio, science, portal).

So I go and I do my thing again. I get the parts, and he's MAD mad the next time we meet. He gets really freaked out! This whole time, he says, he's been trying to stop me from doing this, and I'm stubborn, and really pissing him off. Which... good! I really hate his guts.

He tries to kill me by surrounding me in darkness, but I outwitted him with my scientific mind, and some fireflies, and found the parts once more.

Now, I was hoping that maybe, MAYBE I could get out of here. But instead, I end up somewhere.... weird. And I run into M. But he looks bad. Really bad. And he's on this weird chair. Talks to me for a bit. Thanks me for turning off a gramophone (seriously, this thing has ONE song). Says I could keep him company for a bit. And tells me whatever I do, not to put this key thing into a lock.

So, obviously, I did exactly that.

Well, M gets FREED from the stupid chair, and stands up, before turning to dust! And I'm thinking, 'good Science, I've just killed a man'. But the shadow hands grab me and cram ME into the chair. And turn the gramophone back on.

On the bad side, this thing HURTS, and I can't escape. On the good side, I can type on this misshapen typewriter and outsource my moral dilemma on disrespecting and killing M.

So, AITA? On the one hand, I did upset and kill him. On the other side, I think he tricked me AGAIN.